Vanity, and dreary disappointment, care, and weariness, and envy; Vanity is graven upon all things; wisely spake the preacher. For ambition is a burning mountain, thrown up amid the turbid sea, A Stromboli in sullen pride above the hissing waves; And the statesman climbing there, forgetful of his patriot intentions, Shall hate the strife of each rough step, or ever he hath toiled midway: And every truant from his home, the happy home of duty, Shall live to loathe his eminence of cares, that seething smoke and lava. Contentment is the temperate repast, flowing with milk and honey: Ambition is the drunken orgy, fed by liquid flames: A black and bitter frown is stamped upon the forehead of Ambition, But fair Contentment's angel-face is rayed with winning smiles. There was in Tyre a merchant, the favourite child of fortune, An opulent man with many ships, to trade in many climes; And he rose up early to his merchandize, after feverish dreaming, And lay down late to his hot unrest, overwhelmed with calculated cares. So, day by day, and month by month, and year by year, he gained; And grew grey, and waxed great: for money brought him all things. All things?--verily, not all; the kernel of the nut is lacking,-- His mind was a stranger to content, and as for Peace, he knew her not: Luxuries palled upon his palate, and his eyes were satiate with purple; He could coin much gold, but buy no happiness with it. And on a day, a day of dread, in the heat of inordinate ambition, When he threw with a gambler's hand, to lose or to double his possessions, The chance hit him,--he had speculated ill,--and men began to whisper;-- Those he trusted, failed; and their usuries had bribed him deeply; One ship foundered out at sea,--and another met the pirate,-- And so, with broken fortunes, men discreetly shunned him. He was a stricken stag, and went to hide away in solitude, And there in humility, he thought,--he resolved, and promptly acted: From the wreck of all his splendours, from the dregs of the goblet of affluence, He saved with management a morsel and a drop, for his daily cup and platter: And lo, that little was enough, and in enough was competence; His cares were gone,--he slept by night, and lived at peace by day; Cured of his guilty selfishness,--money's love, envy, competition,-- He lived to be thankful in a cottage that he had lost a palace: For he found in his abasement what he vainly had sought in high estate, Both mind and body well at ease, though robed in the russet of the lowly.