The voice which I did more esteem Than music in her sweetest key, Those eyes which unto me did seem More comfortable than the day-- Those now by me, as they have been, 5 Shall never more be heard or seen; But what I once enjoyed in them Shall seem hereafter as a dream. All earthly comforts vanish thus; So little hold of them have we, 10 That we from them, or they from us, May in a moment ravished be. Yet we are neither just nor wise, If present mercies we despise; Or mind not how there may be made 15 A thankful use of what we had. _George Wither._ CXI _EPITAPH._ In this marble casket lies A matchless jewel of rich price; Whom Nature in the world’s disdain But showed, and put it up again. _Anon._ CXII _THE WORLD’S FALLACIES._ False world, thou liest: thou canst not lend The least delight: Thy favours cannot gain a friend, They are so slight: Thy morning pleasures make an end 5 To please at night: Poor are the wants that thou suppliest: And yet thou vaunt’st, and yet thou viest With heaven; fond earth, thou boast’st; false world, thou liest. Thy babbling tongue tells golden tales 10 Of endless treasure: Thy bounty offers easy sales Of lasting pleasure: Thou ask’st the conscience what she ails, And swear’st to ease her; 15 There’s none can want where thou suppliest, There’s none can give where thou deniest; Alas! fond world, thou boast’st; false world, thou liest. What well-advisèd ear regards What earth can say? 20 Thy words are gold, but thy rewards Are painted clay: Thy cunning can but pack the cards, Thou canst not play: Thy game at weakest, still thou viest; 25 If seen, and then revied, deniest: Thou art not what thou seem’st; false world, thou liest. Thy tinsel bosom seems a mint Of new-coined treasure; A paradise, that has no stint, 30 No change, no measure; A painted cask, but nothing in’t, Nor wealth, nor pleasure. Vain earth! that falsely thus compliest With man; vain man, that thou reliest 35 On earth: vain man, thou doat’st; vain earth, thou liest.