A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions Garnished and decked with diuers dayntie deuises, right delicate and delightfull, to recreate eche modest minde withall. First framed and fashioned in sundrie formes, by diuers worthy workemen of late dayes: and now, ioyned together and builded up: By T. P. [i.e. Thomas Procter] |
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A vew of vayn glory.
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 | A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions |  |
A vew of vayn glory.
What motion more, may mooue a man to mindeHis owne estate, then proofe, whose dayes vnsure,
Accounted are vnto a puffe of winde,
A breathing blast, whose force can not endure:
Whose lyuely showes consumes, whose pompe decayes,
Whose glory dyes, whose pleasures soone be spent:
Whose stoutest strength, to weakenes subiect stayes,
Whose thoughts bee vaine, and vade as though vnment.
What haue wee then to vaunt, or glory in?
Sith all is vayne, wherin wee take delight:
Why should wee boast or brag, sith nought wee win
In fine, but death? to whom yeeldes euery wight.
To equall state, hee bringeth each degree,
Hee feareth none, all subiects yeeldes to death:
To dankish dust, hee driueth all wee see,
Which in the world, enioyeth any breath:
Why vaunt wee then, in that wee see is vayne,
Or take delight, in that wee proue but drosse?
Why glory wee, or seeke for golden gayne?
Sith at the length, wee reape therof but losse.
Wee lothe to leaue, our hutches filde with golde:
Our annual rents, it greeues vs to forgo,
Our buildings braue, which glads vs to beholde:
Our pleasant sport, it greeues vs to forgo.
Wee nothing brought, ne ought shall carry hence,
Lyfe lost, behinde goods, mony, land, wee leaue:
And naked shall returne, assured whence
Before wee came, when death doth life bereaue:
Liue then, to leaue thy life in euery hower,
Learne how to lead thy minde, from vayne desire,
Of filthy drosse, whose sugerest sweet is sower,
When dreadfull death, shall yeeld our earthly hire.
What is our world but vayne, fraught full of vice,
Wherin wee liue, allured by disceat:
And sturs vs vp, in flamed by follyes heat.
Our mindes are mooued, with euery fond desire,
Wee gloze in that, the which wee see vnsure:
Wee vsuall seeke great honor to aspire,
Whose greatest pompe, doth but a while endure:
For proofe the flower, bedect with gorgious hew,
As soone with heate, of scorching sun doth fade:
As doth the weede, the which vnseemly grew,
And showes it selfe, vncouerd with the shade.
The stately ship, which floates on foming fluds,
With waue is tost, as soone to surging Seas:
Doth yeeld his pompe, though fraught with store of goods,
As vessell weake, whose force the streame assayes:
Our selues may show, the state of eche degree,
As Sampson stout, whose force Philistians felt:
For wealth, let Diues, glut with golde our Mirror bee,
Marke Nemrods fall, whose hart with pride was swelt.
And diuers mo, whose preter pathes may learne,
Our future steps, our vayn vnsteady stay:
Whose elder lyues, already past may warne,
Us shun such snares, which leades vs to decay.
T.P.
FINIS.
| A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions | |