Sir Walter Ralegh (?). A Farewell to the Vanities of the World.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH (?) in
WALTON'S Complete Angler,
ed. 1653 ; date uncertain.

A FAREWELL TO THE VANITIES OF THE WORLD.

FAREWELL, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles !
Farewell, ye honored rags, ye glorious bubbles !
Fame's but a hollow echo ; gold, pure clay ;
Honor, the darling but of one short day ;
Beauty—th' eye's idol—but a damasked skin ;
State, but a golden prison to live in
And torture free-born minds ; embroidered trains,
but pageants for proud swelling veins ;
And blood allied to greatness, is alone
Inherited, not purchased, nor our own :
Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood, and birth
Are but the fading blossoms of the earth.

I would be great, but that the sun doth still
Level his rays against the rising hill ;
I would be high, but see the proudest oak
Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke ;
I would be rich, but see men, too unkind,
Dig in the bowels of the richest mind ;
I would be wise, but that I often see
The fox suspected whilst the ass goes free ;
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud,
Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud ;
I would be poor, but know the humble grass
Still trampled on by each unworthy ass :
Rich, hated ; wise, suspected ; scorned, if poor,
Great, feared ; fair, tempted ; high, still envied more ;
I have wished all, but now I wish for neither ;
Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair, poor I'll be rather.

Would the World now adopt me for her heir,
Would beauty's queen entitle me the fair,
Fame speak me Fortune's minion, could I vie
Angels with India, with a speaking eye
Command bare heads, bowed knees, strike Justice dumb
As wel as blind and lame, or give a tongue
To stones by epitaphs, be called great master
In the loose rimes of every poetaster ;
Could I be more than any man that lives,
Great, fair, rich, wise, all in superlatives ;
Yet I more freely would these gifts resign,
Than ever Fortune would have made them mine ;
And hold one minute of this holy leisure
Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure.
Welcome, pure thoughts ! welcome, ye silent groves !
These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves :
Now the winged people of the sky shall sing
My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring ;
A pray'r-book now shall be my looking-glass,
In which I will adore sweet Virtue's face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace cares,
No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced fears,
Then here I'll sit and sigh my hot love's folly,
And learn to affect an holy melancholy ;
And if contentment be a stranger then
I'll ne'er look for it, but in heaven, again.

Schelling, Felix E., Ed. A Book of Elizabethan Lyrics.
Boston: Ginn and Company, 1895. 188-190.

to the Works of Sir Walter Ralegh