22

That these pale souls may come into their doom.

40

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 dièd ignorant of mine own Heart.
I got great Honour, and my Fame did
stream,

As far as doth the Mornings shining
Beam;

50

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,

60

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

70

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,

80

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

90

That solid and enduring Goop to find,
Which sweetens life and death, which will

encrease

On an immortal Soul, immortal peace;

R. LEWIS (DATES UNKNOWN)