O put away thy pride, Or be ashamed of power That cannot turn aside The breeze that waves a flower; Or bid the clouds be still-- Though shadows, they can brave Thy poor power-mocking will, Then make not man a slave. Dost think, when wealth is won, Thy heart has its desire? Hold ice up to the sun, And wax before the fire; Nor triumph o’er the reign Which they so soon resign, In this world’s ways they gain Insurance safe as thine. Dost think life’s peace secure In houses and in land? Go, read the fairy lure-- To twist a cord of sand, Lodge stones upon the sky, Hold water in a sieve; Nor give such tales the lie, And still thine own believe. Whoso with riches deals, And thinks peace bought and sold, Will find them slippery eels, That slide the firmest hold; Though sweet as sleep with health Thy lulling luck may be, Pride may o’erstride thy wealth, And check prosperity. Dost think that beauty’s power Life’s sweetest pleasure gives? Go, pluck the summer flower, And see how long it lives: Behold the rays glide on Along the summer plain, ’Ere thou canst say, “They’re gone!” And measure beauty’s reign. Look on the brightest eye, Nor teach it to be proud, But view the clearest sky, And thou shalt find a cloud; Nor call each face you meet An angel’s, ’cause it’s fair, But look beneath your feet, And think of what they are. Who thinks that love doth live In beauty’s tempting show, Shall find his hopes misgive, And melt in reason’s thaw; Who thinks that pleasure lies In every fairy bower, Shall oft, to his surprise, Find poison in the flower. Dost lawless passions grasp?-- Judge not thou deal’st in joy; Its flowers but hide the asp, Thy revels to destroy. Who trusts a harlot’s smile, And by her wiles is led, Plays with a sword the while, Hung dropping o’er his head. Dost doubt my warning song?-- Then doubt the sun gives light; Doubt truth to teach the wrong, And wrong alone as right; And live as lives the knave, Intrigue’s deceiving guest; Be tyrant or be slave, As suits thy ends the best. Or pause amid thy toils For visions won and lost, And count the fancied spoils, If ’ere they quit the cost; And if they still possess, Thy mind as worthy things; Plat straws with bedlam Bess, And call them diamond rings. Thy folly’s past advice, Thy heart’s already won, Thy fall’s above all price, So go and be undone: For all who thus prefer The seeming great for small, Shall make wine vinegar, And sweetest honey gall.