Classic Poem

I.

Enough, enough, my Soul! of worldly noise,
Of airy pomps and fleeting joys.
What does this busy world provide at best
But brittle goods that break like glass;
But poison'd sweets, a troubled feast,
And pleasures like the winds, that in a moment pass?
Thy thoughts to nobler meditations give,
And study how to die, not how to live.

II.

How frail is beauty! ah! how vain,
And how short-liv'd, those glories are
That vex our nights and days with pain,
And break our hearts with care!
In dust we no distinction see:
Such Helen is, such, Mira! thou must be.

III.

How short is life! why will vain courtiers toil,
And crowd a vainer monarch for a smile?
What is that monarch but a mortal man,
His crown a pageant, and his life a span?
With all his guards and his dominions he
Must sicken too, and die as well as we.

IV.

Those boasted names of conquerors and kings
Are swallow'd, and become forgotten things:
One destin'd period men in common have,
The great, the base, the coward, and the brave,
All food alike for worms, companions in the grave.
The prince and parasite together lie:
No fortune can exalt but Death will climb as high.