Stonington (Daniel Read)
- Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2015-05-16). Score information: Letter, 1 page, 57 kB Copyright: Public Domain
- Edition notes: Oval note edition. Watts' poem has an irregular meter; there aren't other lines in it that would fit Read's music.
- Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2015-05-16). Score information: 7 x 10 in (landscape), 1 page, 60 kB Copyright: Public Domain
- Edition notes: Note shapes added (4-shape). Watts' poem has an irregular meter; there aren't other lines in it that would fit Read's music.
Original text and translations
My Lord, forbear to call him blessed
That only boasts a large estate,
Should all the treasures of the west
Meet, and conspire to make him great.
I know thy better thoughts; I know
Thy reason can't descend so low.
Let a broad stream with golden sands
Through all his meadows roll,
He's but a wretch, with all his lands,
That wears a narrow soul.
He swells amidst his wealthy store,
And, proudly posing what he weighs,
In his own scale he fondly lays
Huge heaps of shining ore.
He spreads the balance wide, to hold
His manors and his farms,
And cheats the beam with loads of gold
He hugs between his arms.
So might the plow-boy climb a tree,
When Croesus mounts his throne,
And both stand up, and smile to see
How long their shadow's grown.
Alas! How vain their fancies be,
To think that shape their own!
Thus, mingled still with wealth and state,
Croesus himself can never know;
His true dimensions and his weight
Are far inferior to their show.
Were I so tall to reach the pole,
Or grasp the ocean with my span,
I must be measured by my soul:
The mind's the standard of the man.
False Greatness by Isaac Watts