Fons Lachrymarum or a fountain of tears: From whence doth flow Englands Complaint, Jeremiahs Lamentations paraphras'd with Divine Meditations and an elegy Upon that Son of Valor Sir Charles Lucas. Written by John Quarles |
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Contenta vita est summa fælicitas.
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 | Fons Lachrymarum |  |
Contenta vita est summa fælicitas.
What is this world? A looking-glass wherin
We see the body, nay the face of Sin.
What's Wealth, what's Honor? Transitory toys.
What's Mirth, what's Pleasure? Melancholy joys.
Honor is Envies object; Riches, they
Are but the subjects of a frowning day.
Beauty's a slave to time, and fond delight
Teaches the morning how to fool the night.
Were I a Midus, could my towers of wealth
Protect my person or preserve my health?
Were I a Cæsar, could my honors save
My crazy carkase from the gaping grave?
Were I as fair as Venus, could my beauty
Acquit me from that necessary duty
I ow to change? If so, I'd honor pleasure;
And hug my honor: and rejoyce in treasure.
If I had riches, they might make me fly
Upon the wings of prodigality.
If I had honor, that might make me dance
Ambition a Corranto, and advance
My self above my self: If beauty were
At my command, then might I chance t'insnare
The wantons of the world: nay, and intice
Virtue to change it self into a vice.
We see the body, nay the face of Sin.
What's Wealth, what's Honor? Transitory toys.
What's Mirth, what's Pleasure? Melancholy joys.
Honor is Envies object; Riches, they
Are but the subjects of a frowning day.
Beauty's a slave to time, and fond delight
Teaches the morning how to fool the night.
95
Protect my person or preserve my health?
Were I a Cæsar, could my honors save
My crazy carkase from the gaping grave?
Were I as fair as Venus, could my beauty
Acquit me from that necessary duty
I ow to change? If so, I'd honor pleasure;
And hug my honor: and rejoyce in treasure.
If I had riches, they might make me fly
Upon the wings of prodigality.
If I had honor, that might make me dance
Ambition a Corranto, and advance
My self above my self: If beauty were
At my command, then might I chance t'insnare
The wantons of the world: nay, and intice
Virtue to change it self into a vice.
Now tell me Earth, where are those smooth delights
Thou often boasts of? are thy golden nights
Chang'd into leaden days? Oh tell me then!
Why dost thou so befool the sons of men?
Who, following thee, consume their precious time,
And are at last rewarded with a crime.
I Content, that well advised word imports
A crown of happiness: All joy resorts
Into the palace of a blest content,
And there resides.
Thou often boasts of? are thy golden nights
Chang'd into leaden days? Oh tell me then!
Why dost thou so befool the sons of men?
Who, following thee, consume their precious time,
And are at last rewarded with a crime.
I Content, that well advised word imports
A crown of happiness: All joy resorts
Into the palace of a blest content,
And there resides.
Content is golden ey'd, and can behold
A dunghil with as much respect as gold.
Content's a Jewel: but here lies the art,
Which way to hang it in a restless heart.
A dunghil with as much respect as gold.
Content's a Jewel: but here lies the art,
Which way to hang it in a restless heart.
96
Much have I heard of that rich stone, which all
Are pleas'd t'entitle, Philosophical;
And fame reports, that many wits have try'd
T'obtain it, and before obtain'd it dy'd,
And loft their eager hopes; nay, what is worse,
Left a rich study, but a poorer purse.
And to conclude, experience made it known,
Had they not lost Content, they'd found the Stone.
Are pleas'd t'entitle, Philosophical;
And fame reports, that many wits have try'd
T'obtain it, and before obtain'd it dy'd,
And loft their eager hopes; nay, what is worse,
Left a rich study, but a poorer purse.
And to conclude, experience made it known,
Had they not lost Content, they'd found the Stone.
| Fons Lachrymarum | |