The Vanity Of Human Wishes

I walk'd and did a little Mole-hill view
Full peopled with a most industrious crew
Of busie Ants, where each one labor’s more
Than if he were to bring home Indian Ore;
Here wrought the Pioneers, there march'd the Bands,
Here Colonies went forth to plant new Lands:
These hasted out, and those supplies brought in,
As if they had some sudden Seige foreseen:
Until there came an angry spade, and cast
Country and People to a Pit at last.
Again, I viewed a Kingdom in a Hive,
Where every one did work, and so all thrive;
Some go, some come, some war, some watch and ward
Some make the works, and some the works do guard.
These frame their curious waxen cells, and those
Do into them their Nectar drops dispose:
Until the greedy Gardner brought his smoke.
And, for their work, did all the workmen choke.
So here, frail Mortals may fit Emblems see
Of their great toil and greater vanity.
They weary out their brains, their strength, their time,
While some to Arts, and some to Honours climb:
They search earth's bowels, cross the raging seas,
Mortgage their Souls, and forfeit all their ease,
Grudge night her sleep, and lengthen out the day,
To fat those bags, and cram those chests with clay,
They rack and charm each creature to explore
Some latent Quintessence, not known before:
Torture and squeeze out all its juice and blood,
To try if they can now find out that Good
Which Solomon despair'd of, but at last
On the same shore of Vanity are cast;
The spade stops their career of Pride and Lust,
And calls them from their Clay into their Dust.
Leave off your Circles, Archimede, away,
The King of Terrour calls, and will not stay:
Miser, kiss all your Bags, and then ly down;
Scholar, your Books; Monarch, yield up your Crown:
Give way. Wealth, Honour, Arts, Thrones, back, make room,
That these pale souls may come into their doom.
No[w] shew vain men the fruit of all that pain
Which in the end nothing but Loss did gain:
Compute your lives, and all your hours up cast.
So here's the total sum of all at last.
I rose up early, sat up late, to know,
As much as man, as tongues, as books could show;
I toil'd to search all Science and all Art,
But died ignorant of mine own Heart.
I got great Honour, and my Fame did stream,
As far as doth the Mornings shining Beam;
My Name into a page of Titles swell'd.
My head a Crown, my hand a Scepter held:
Ador'd without, but shameful lusts within;
With anxious thoughts, with saddest cares and cost
I gain'd these Lordships, and this Soul I lost,
My greedy Heir now hovers o're my pelf,
I purchase Land for him, Hell for myself.
Go on you noble Brains, and fill your sight
As full of learning as the Sun's of light;
Expand your Souls to Truth as wide as Day,
Know all that Men, know all that Angels say:
Write shops of Volumns, and let every Book
Be fill'd with lustre as was Moses look:
Yet know, all this is but a better kind
Of sublime vanity, and more refin'd:
Except a saving knowledge crown the rest
Devils know more, and yet shall ne'r be blest.
Go on, ambitious worms, yet, yet aspire,
Lay a sure scene how you may yet rise higher:
March forward, Macedonian Morn, add on
Gaza to Tyre, Indies to Babylon;
Make stirrups of the peoples backs and bones,
Climb up by them to Diadems and Thrones:
Thy crowns are all but grass, thine was the toil,
Thy captains come, and they divide the spoil.
Except one heav'nly Crown crown all the rest
Devils are Poutentates, and yet not blest.
Go on, base dunghil-souls, heap gold as mire,
Sweep silver as the dust, emulate Tyre,
Fill every Ware-house, purchase every Field,
Add house to house, Pelion on Ossa build
Get Mida's vote to transubstantiate
Whate're you please all into golden plate;
Build wider barns, sing requiem to your heart,
Feel your wealths pleasures only, not their smart.
Except his Riches who for us was poor.
Do sweeten those which Mortals so adore;
Except sublimer wealth crown all the rest,
Devils have nobler Treasures, yet not blest.
Cease then from vain delights, and let your mind
That solid and enduring Good to find,
Which sweetens life and death, which will encrease
On an immortal Soul, immortal peace;
Which will replenish and advance you higher
Then e're your own Ambition could aspire.
Fear your great Maker with a child-like aw,
Believe his Grace, love and obey his Law.
This is the total work of man, and this,
Will crown you here with Peace, and there with Bliss.
Be kind unto your selves, believe and try:
If not. go on, fill up your lusts and die.
Sing peace unto your selves; ‘t will once be known
Whose word shall stand your judg's or your own.
Crown thee with Rose-buds, satiate thine eyes
Glut every sense with her own vanities:
Melt into pleasures, until that which Lust
Did not before co[n]sume, rot into dust:
The Thrones are set, the Books will strait
be read, Hell will her souls, and gravs give up their dead;
Then there will be (and the time is not far)
Fire on the Bench, and Stubble at the Bar.
O sinners ruminate these thoughts agen
You have been Beasts enough, at last be Men
Christ yet entreats, but if you will not turn
Where grace will not convert, there fire will burn.