The Massachusetts spy, and Worcester County advertiser. [volume] ([Worcester, Mass.]) 1825-1831, 1831-01-19
From the United slates gazette.

The following stanzas from the LONDON
Monthly Magazine are not without an ihsItu NC
tive moral. Look back on the history OF tue
past FIVE and twenty years. and what cnaos
OF changes has occurred! rev are 'here whose
hearts have not in that brief space, passed
through every variety of emotion, and none
have escaped The influence of the Transforming
hand of Time. The aged have passed away
they who were in their prime have grown old
and decripit; and the young, who werc then
locking forward with swelling hopes, have long
since seen all those hopes perish, and turned e
pursue other bubbles as transitory or quailed
before hestorm. OF all those who were around
us then, how few are left with whom we car
interchange Renaissance of the past! The
paths Of some were early separated from ours
and mutual oblivion has interviewed. Some are
far over mountains, and forests, and oceans
But Others and perhaps tho dearest of all. have
found their rest In the conflict of life we have
beheld one by one of our companions drop BY
the way, and we have still striven onward to-
wards the goal, burying the wreck of the past
in the promise of the future. And though or
every side we witness the ruins of lofty or oil
humble hopes, we obstiuately refuse to listen
to the voice of warning, as though we alone
were exempt from the chance and change
which is the unfailing doom of man.
Yes, five and twenty years will make
change ia mortal things
I've seen it some strange freedoms take
With very decent kings
a quarter-centurv when DER
Appears by no means recent;
1t made saint of naughty Moore,
And broad-grin Colman decent
Yes, five and twenty years could
Apostrophise your flight,
In strains would make great Matthew Wood
put on his little light.
But ye are gone and where's the use
Or metrcal regret,
Or tears to render my dry muEs
Intentionally wet.
The pump which now at Aldyate stands
Had the same handle then
'1's handled now by other hands,
Another race of men.
Phil Potts was then a serving lad,
A'big-boy sort of man:
The boy is father to The dad''-
He's now publican.
Jack Shrimshaw Kept his horse and chaise,
And rolled in port and pelf;
Now Jack in these degenerate days,
Can barely keep himself.
Wiks, Wilkins, Wilkinson and Wcks,
Brown, Buggins, Biggs, and Bate,
hogg, Higgins, Higgins, Higgs, and Hicks,
Are all in the same state.
There's Thrift, who lent his thousands out,
And dined on two polonies,
Now phaetonizes town about
With two black-spotted ponies,
And Grasp, who ground the poor to dust,
Hard-hearted a target,
Has left Bread Ward his marble bust,
And feeds the world at Margate
The Dobbses, who then cut dash,
And led the ton Of Aldgate,
Grew cut Of vogue when out of cash,
And sunk to Norton Faigate
The Hobbses, once in Dobbs's case,
Proud when a Dobbs would tighten
The darkness of their dwelling place,
Now cut them dead at Brighton.
Thus runs the world, thus runs the world.
And thus it still shall run,
Till into atoms it is hurled
And quenched are moon and sun.
Who shall recount the ups and downs,
The laughter and the tears,
The kicks and cuffs, the smiles and fro~,ns,
OF Eve and twenty yearsl