Classic Poem

CHAPTER II.

I SAID in my own heart, Go on, and prove
What mirth can do: taste the delights of love.
In pleasure's change thy careless hours employ:
This also was a false and empty joy.
Avaunt, said I, O laughter, thou art mad!
Vain mirth, what canst thou to contentment add?
Then sought the cares of study to decline
With lib'ral feasts, and flowing bowls of wine.
With all my wisdom exercis'd, to try
If she at length with folly could comply;
And to discover that beatitude
Which mortals all their lives so much pursu'd.
Great works I finish'd, sumptuous houses built,
My cedar roofs with gold of Ophir gilt;
Choice vineyards planted; paradises made,
Stor'd with all sorts of fruits, with trees of shade,
And water'd with cool rivulets, that drill'd
Along the borders: these my fish-pools fill'd.
For service and delight I purchased
Both men and maids: more in my house were bred.
My flocks and herds abundantly increas'd;
So great, as never king before possess'd.
Silver and gold, the treasure of the seas,
Of kings, and provinces, foment mine ease.
Sweet voices, music of all sorts, invite
My curious ears, and feast with their delight.
In greater fluency no mortal reigned;
In height of all, my wisdom I retain'd.
I had the beauties which my eyes admir'd,
Gave to my heart whatever it desir'd;
In my own works rejoic'd: the recompence
Of all my labours was deriv'd from thence.
Then I survey'd all that my hands had done;
My troublesome delights. Beneath the sun
What solid good can man's endeavour find?
All is but vanity and grief of mind.
At length I wisdom ponder'd in my thought;
And madness weigh'd: for folly is distraught.
What man can my untraced steps pursue,
Or do that act which to the king is new?
Then found, how wisdom folly did excell,
As much as brightest heav'n the shades of hell,
The wise man's eyes are tower'd in his head;
The fool in darkness walks, by error led;
Yet equal miseries on either wait,
And both we see obnoxious to one fate.
Thus in my heart I said: The fool and I
Suffer alike, and must together die:
Why then vex I my brains to grow more wise?
Ev'n this was not the least of vanities.
Both must be swallow'd by oblivion;
What is, will not to after times be known.
The wise and foolish to the earth descend,
And in the grave their various travails end.
For this I hated life, which only feeds
Increasing sorrows: fruitless are our deeds,
And wearisome; man no content can find:
For all is vanity and grief of mind.
I hated all the glory I had won;
My state, my structures, all my hands had done;
Foreseeing how that certain hour would come,
When I must leave them; nor yet know to whom.
Who can divine if prudent or a fool?
Yet He must over all my labours rule,
Of all my wisdom's purchases possess'd.
This vanity was equal with the rest.
I therefore sought to make my heart despair,
To slight the frail success of all my care.
What by integrity, and honest toil,
A wise man gathers, must become his spoil
Who only pleas'd his sense. This is a great
Vexation, and an undiscern'd deceit.
What hath a man for all his industry
And grief of soul sustain'd beneath the sky?
All is but sorrow from the hour of birth,
Till he with age return unto the earth:
'Tis travail, pain; night yields him no repose.
This vanity from our first parents flows.
To eat, to drink, to enjoy what we possess
With freedom, is the greatest happiness
That mortals can attain unto: a good
Deriv'd from God, by men not understood.
Who feasted more than I? who spent his store
More lib'rally? or cheer'd his genius more?
God wisdom gives, gives knowledge and delight,
To those whose hearts are perfect in His sight;
To sinners trouble, who their time employ
To gather what the righteous shall enjoy,
By their own avarice in plenty pin'd.
This is a vanity and grief of mind.