As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds,
Slow-meeting, mingle into solid gloom.
Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep,
Let me associate with the serious Night,
And Contemplation, her sedate compeer;
Let me shake off th' instrusive cares of day,
And lay the meddling senses all aside.
Where now, ye lying vanities of life!
Ye ever-tempting, ever-cheating train!
Where are you now? and what is your amount?
Vexation, disappointment, and remorse :
Sad, sickening thought! and yet deluded man,
A scene of crude disjointed visions past,
And broken slumbers, rises still resolv'd,
With new-flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round.
Father of light and life! thou Good Supreme!
O teach me what is good! teach me Thyself!
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit! and feed my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure;
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss!
A FAREWELL TO THE VANITIES OF THE WORLD.
FAREWELL, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles;
Farewell, ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles;
Fame's but a hollow echo; gold, pure clay;
Honour, the darling but of one short day;
Beauty, th' eye's idol, but a damask❜d skin;
State, but a golden prison to live in,
And torture free-born minds; embroider'd trains,
Merely but pageants for proud swelling veins;
And blood ally'd to greatness, is alone
Inherited, not purchas'd, nor our own:
Fame, honour, beauty, state, train, blood, and Are but the fading blossoms of the earth.
I would be great, but that the Sun doth still
Level his rays against the rising hill:
I would be high, but see the proudest oak
Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke:
I would be rich, but see men, too unkind,
Dig in the bowels of the richest mind:
I would be wise, but that I often see
The fox suspected, whilst the ass goes free:
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud,
Like the bright Sun, oft setting in a cloud:
I would be poor, but know the humble grass
Still trampled on by each unworthy ass :
Rich, hated: wise, suspected: scorn'd, if poor:
Great, fear'd: fair, tempted: high, still envy'd
I have wish'd all: but now I wish for neither Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair; poor I'll be
Would the world now adopt me for her heir,
Would beauty's queen entitle me The Fair,
Fame speak me Fortune's minion, could I vie
Angels with India*; with a speaking eye [dumb,
Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike Justice
As well as blind and lame, or give a tongue
To stones by epitaphs: be call'd great master
In the loose rhymes of every poetaster;
Could I be more than any man that lives,
Great, fair, rich, wise, all in superlatives;
Yet I more freely would these gifts resign,
Than ever fortune would have made them mine,
And hold one minute of this holy leisure
Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure.
Welcome, pure thoughts, welcome, ye silent groves, These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves!
Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing
My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring:
• Au angel is a piece of coin, of the value of ten shillings.
A Prayer-book now shall be my looking-glass,
In which I will adore sweet Virtue's face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace-cares,
No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-fac'd fears :
Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly,
And learn t' affect an holy melancholy;
And if Contentment be a stranger then,
I'll ne'er look for it, but in Heaven, again.
Sir H. Wotton.
MYLO, forbear to call him bless'd
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 poising 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.
|