THE VANITIES OF LIFE


What are life’s joys and gains,
  What pleasures crowd its ways,
That man should take such pains
  To seek them all his days?
Sift this untoward strife
  On which thy mind is bent--
See if this chaff of life
  Be worth the trouble spent.

Is pride thy heart’s desire?
  Is power thy climbing aim?
Is love thy folly’s fire?
  Is wealth thy restless game?--
Pride, power, love, wealth, and all,
  Time’s touchstone shall destroy;
And, like base coin, prove all
  Vain substitutes for joy.

Dost think thy pride exalts
  Thyself in others’ eyes,
And hides thy folly’s faults,
  Which reason will despise?
Dost strut, and turn, and stride,
  Like walking weathercocks?
The shadow, by thy side,
  Becomes thy ape, and mocks.

Dost think that power’s disguise
  Can make thee mighty seem?
It may in folly’s eyes,
  But not in worth’s esteem.
When all that thou canst ask,
  And all that she can give,
Is but a paltry mask,
  Which tyrants wear and live.

Go, let thy fancies range,
  And ramble where they may
View power in every change,
  And what is its display?--
The country magistrate,
  The lowest shade in power,
To rulers of the state?--
  The meteors of an hour.

View all, and mark the end
  Of every proud extreme,
Where flattery turns a friend,
  And counterfeits esteem;
Where worth is aped in show,
  That doth her name purloin--
As toys of golden glow,
  Are sold for copper coin.

Ambition’s haughty nod
  With fancies may deceive--
Nay, tell thee thou’rt a god;
  And wilt thou such believe?
Go, bid the seas be dry;
  Go, hold earth like a ball;
Or throw thy fancies by,
  For God can do it all.

Dost thou possess the dower
  Of laws, to spare or kill?
Call it not heavenly power,
  When but a tyrant’s will.
Know what a god will do,
  And know thyself a fool;
Nor tyrant-like pursue,
  Where he alone should rule.

O put away thy pride,
  Or be ashamed of power
That cannot turn aside
  The breeze that waves a flower;
Or bid the clouds be still--
  Though shadows, they can brave
Thy poor power-mocking will,
  Then make not man a slave.

Dost think, when wealth is won,
  Thy heart has its desire?
Hold ice up to the sun,
  And wax before the fire;
Nor triumph o’er the reign
  Which they so soon resign,
In this world’s ways they gain
  Insurance safe as thine.

Dost think life’s peace secure
  In houses and in land?
Go, read the fairy lure--
  To twist a cord of sand,
Lodge stones upon the sky,
  Hold water in a sieve;
Nor give such tales the lie,
  And still thine own believe.

Whoso with riches deals,
  And thinks peace bought and sold,
Will find them slippery eels,
  That slide the firmest hold;
Though sweet as sleep with health
  Thy lulling luck may be,
Pride may o’erstride thy wealth,
  And check prosperity.

Dost think that beauty’s power
  Life’s sweetest pleasure gives?
Go, pluck the summer flower,
  And see how long it lives:
Behold the rays glide on
  Along the summer plain,
’Ere thou canst say, “They’re gone!”
  And measure beauty’s reign.

Look on the brightest eye,
  Nor teach it to be proud,
But view the clearest sky,
  And thou shalt find a cloud;
Nor call each face you meet
  An angel’s, ’cause it’s fair,
But look beneath your feet,
  And think of what they are.

Who thinks that love doth live
  In beauty’s tempting show,
Shall find his hopes misgive,
  And melt in reason’s thaw;
Who thinks that pleasure lies
  In every fairy bower,
Shall oft, to his surprise,
  Find poison in the flower.

Dost lawless passions grasp?--
  Judge not thou deal’st in joy;
Its flowers but hide the asp,
  Thy revels to destroy.
Who trusts a harlot’s smile,
  And by her wiles is led,
Plays with a sword the while,
  Hung dropping o’er his head.

Dost doubt my warning song?--
  Then doubt the sun gives light;
Doubt truth to teach the wrong,
  And wrong alone as right;
And live as lives the knave,
  Intrigue’s deceiving guest;
Be tyrant or be slave,
  As suits thy ends the best.

Or pause amid thy toils
  For visions won and lost,
And count the fancied spoils,
  If ’ere they quit the cost;
And if they still possess,
  Thy mind as worthy things;
Plat straws with bedlam Bess,
  And call them diamond rings.

Thy folly’s past advice,
  Thy heart’s already won,
Thy fall’s above all price,
  So go and be undone:
For all who thus prefer
  The seeming great for small,
Shall make wine vinegar,
  And sweetest honey gall.

Would’st heed the truths I sing,
  To profit wherewithal?
Clip Folly’s wanton wing,
  And keep her within call.
I’ve little else to give,
  What thou canst easy try;
The lesson how to live,
  Is but to learn to die.


作者
约翰·克莱尔

报错/编辑
  1. 初次上传:传灯
添加诗作
其他版本
添加译本

PoemWiki 评分

暂无评分
轻点评分 ⇨
  1. 暂无评论    写评论