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George Gordon Byron - `All Is Vanity, Saieth the Preacher`
Work rating: Medium

I.
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
   And health and youth possess`d me;
My goblets blush`d from every vine,
   And lovely forms caress`d me;
I sunn`d my heart in beauty`s eyes,
   And felt my soul grow tender:
All earth can give, or mortal prize,
   Was mine of regal splendour.

II.
I strive to number o`er what days
   Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays
   Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll`d no hour
   Of pleasure unembitter`d;
And not a trapping deck`d my power
   That gall`d not while it glitter`d.

III.
The serpent of the field, by art
   And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
   Oh! who hath pwer of charming?
It will not list to wisdom`s lore,
   Nor music`s voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
   The soul that must endure it.
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