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| VAIN, frail, short-liv’d, and miserable man, | |
| Learn what thou art when thy estate is best: | |
| A restless wave o’ the troubled ocean, | |
| A dream, a lifeless picture finely dress’d. | |
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| A wind, a flower, a vapor and a bubble, | 5 |
| A wheel that stands not still, a trembling reed, | |
| A trolling stone, dry dust, light chaff and stubble, | |
| A shadow of something but truly nought indeed. | |
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| Learn what deceitful toys, and empty things, | |
| This world, and all its best enjoyments be: | 10 |
| Out of the earth no true contentment springs, | |
| But all things here are vexing vanity. | |
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| For what is beauty, but a fading flower? | |
| Or what is pleasure, but the devil’s bait, | |
| Whereby he catcheth whom he would devour, | 15 |
| And multitudes of souls doth ruinate. | |
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| And what are friends, but mortal men, as we, | |
| Whom death from us may quickly separate: | |
| Or else their hearts may quite estranged be, | |
| And all their love be turned into hate. | 20 |
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| And what are riches to be doted on? | |
| Uncertain, fickle, and ensnaring things; | |
| They draw men’s souls into perdition, | |
| And when most needed, take them to their wings. | |
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| Ah foolish man! that sets his heart upon | 25 |
| Such empty shadows, such wild fowl as these, | |
| That being gotten will be quickly gone, | |
| And whilst they stay increase but his disease. | |
| |
| As in a dropsy, drinking draughts begets, | |
| The more he drinks, the more he still requires; | 30 |
| So on this world, whoso affection sets, | |
| His wealth’s increase, increaseth his desires. | |
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| Oh happy man, whose portion is above, | |
| Where floods, where flames, where foes cannot bereave him | |
| Most wretched man that fixed hath his love | 35 |
| Upon this world, that surely will deceive him. | |
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| For what is honor? What is sovereignty, | |
| Whereto men’s hearts so restlessly aspire? | |
| Whom have they crowned with felicity? | |
| When did they ever satisfy desire? | 40 |
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| The ear of man with hearing is not fill’d; | |
| To see new lights still coveteth the eye: | |
| The craving stomach, though it may be still’d | |
| Yet craves again without a new supply. | |
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| All earthly things man’s cravings answer not, | 45 |
| Whose little heart would all the world contain, | |
| (If all the world should fall to one man’s lot,) | |
| And notwithstanding empty still remain. | |
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| The eastern conqueror was said to weep, | |
| When he the Indian ocean did view, | 50 |
| To see his conquest bounded by the deep, | |
| And no more worlds remaining to subdue. | |
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| Who would that man in his enjoyment bless, | |
| Or envy him, or covet his estate, | |
| Whose gettings do augment his greediness, | 55 |
| And make his wishes more intemperate. | |
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| Such is the wonted and the common guise | |
| Of those on earth that bear the greatest sway; | |
| If with a few the case be otherwise, | |
| They seek a kingdom that abides for aye. | 60 |
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| Moreover they, of all the sons of men, | |
| That rule, and are in highest places set, | |
| Are most inclin’d to scorn their bretheren; | |
| And God himself (without great grace) forget. | |
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| For as the sun doth blind the gazer’s eyes, | 65 |
| That for a time they nought discern aright: | |
| So honor doth befool and blind the wise, | |
| And their own lustre ’reaves them of their sight. | |
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| Great are their dangers, manifold their cares, | |
| Through which, whilst others sleep, they scarcely nap, | 70 |
| And yet are oft surprised unawares, | |
| And fall unwilling into envy’s trap. | |
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| The mean mechanic finds his kindly rest, | |
| All void of fear sleepeth the country clown: | |
| When greatest princes often are distress’d | 75 |
| And cannot sleep upon their beds of down. | |
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| Could strength or valor men immortalize, | |
| Could wealth or honor keep them from decay, | |
| There were some cause the same to idolize, | |
| And give the lie to that which I do say. | 80 |
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| But neither can such things themselves endure, | |
| Without the hazard of a change, one hour, | |
| Nor such as trust in them can they secure, | |
| From dismal days, or death’s prevailing power. | |
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| If beauty could the beautiful defend | 85 |
| From death’s dominion, then fair Absalom | |
| Had not been brought to such a shameful end: | |
| But fair and foul unto the grave must come. | |
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| If wealth or sceptres could immortal make | |
| Then wealthy Crœsus, wherefore art thou dead? | 90 |
| If warlike force, which makes the world to quake, | |
| Then why is Julius Cæsar perished? | |
| |
| Where are the Scipios’ thunder bolts of war? | |
| Renowned Pompey, Cæsar’s enemy? | |
| Stout Hannibal, Rome’s terror known so far? | 95 |
| Great Alexander, what’s become of thee? | |
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| If gifts and bribes death’s favor might but win, | |
| If power, if force, or threat’nings might it fray, | |
| All these, and more had still surviving been: | |
| But all are gone, for death will have no nay. | 100 |
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| Such is this world with all her pomp and glory; | |
| Such are the men whom worldly eyes admire, | |
| Cut down by time, and now become a story, | |
| That we might after better things aspire. | |
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| Go boast thyself of what thy heart enjoys, | 105 |
| Vain man! Triumph in all thy worldly bliss: | |
| Thy best enjoyments are but trash and toys, | |
| Delight thyself in that which worthless is. | |
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| Omnia prætereunt præter amare Deum. | |
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