Now fie upon him! what is Man,
Whose life at best is but a span?
When to an inch it dwindles down,
Ice in his bones, snow on his Crown,
...
O THE sad day!
When friends shall shake their heads, and say
Of miserable me--
'Hark, how he groans!
...
Like a Dog with a bottle, fast ti'd to his tail,
Like Vermin in a trap, or a Thief in a Jail,
Or like a Tory in a Bog,
Or an Ape with a Clog:
...
English poet and miniature painter. There were several editions of his Poems and Songs (1674). One of his self-portraits is in the Victoria and Albert Museum. A portrait of Charles II is in the Wallace Collection, London. His miniatures are noted for their vitality English miniature painter and poet. He was the son of a clerk in Chancery and entered the Inner Temple in 1658; he was called to the Bar in 1662. Among his earliest verses are lines prefixed to Sir William Sanderson’s Graphice (1658), a work containing a description of the art of miniature painting, based on Edward Norgate’s writings. Flatman divided his career between writing poetry (in which his earnest religious temperament is revealed) and painting portraits in miniature. A versatile man, he was made a Fellow of the newly founded Royal Society in 1668. A number of his friends were leading clergymen, and many of his sitters were drawn from the Church and other intellectual circles.)
Advice To An Old Man Of Sixty Three About To Marry A Girle Of Sixteen
Now fie upon him! what is Man,
Whose life at best is but a span?
When to an inch it dwindles down,
Ice in his bones, snow on his Crown,
That he within his crazy brain,
Kind thoughts of Love should entertain,
That he, when Harvest comes should plow
And when 'tis time to reap, go sowe,
Who in imagination only strong,
Tho' twice a Child, can never twice grow young
II.
Nature did those design for Fools,
That sue for work, yet have no tools.
What fellow feeling can there be
In such a strange disparity?
Old age mistakes the youthful breast,
Love dwels not there, but interest:
Alas Good Man! take thy repose,
Get ribband for thy thumbs, and toes,
Provide thee flannel, and a sheet of lead,
Think on thy Coffin, not thy bridal bed.
I have an original copy of Flatman's poems dated 1686 Some details: printed for Benjamin Tooke at thge Ship in St Paul's Church-yard Anyone want to discuss?