The
Vanity
of
the
World
,
In
a
Poem
to
the
Athenians
.
WHat
if
serenely
blest
with
Calms
I
swam
Pactolus
!
in
thy
golden
Sanded
stream
?
Not
all
the
wealth
that
lavish
Chance
cou'd
give
My
soul
from
Death
cou'd
one
short
Hour
reprieve
.
When
from
my
Heart
the
wandring
Life
must
move
No
Cordial
all
my
useless
Gold
cou'd
prove
.
What
tho'
I
plung'd
in
Ioys
so
deep
and
wide
,
'Twou'd
tire
my
Thoughts
to
reach
the
distant
side
,
Fancy
it
self
'twou'd
tire
to
plumb
the
Abyss
;
If
I
for
an
uncertain
Lease
of
this
Sold
the
fair
hopes
of
an
eternal
bliss
?
What
if
invested
with
the
Royal
State
Of
dazling
Queens
,
ador'd
by
Kings
I
sat
?
Yet
when
my
trembling
Soul's
dislodg'd
wou'd
be
No
Room
of
State
within
the
Grave
for
me
.
What
if
my
Youth
,
in
Wits
and
Beautys
bloom
Shou'd
promise
many
a
flatt'ring
Year
to
come
:
Tho'
Death
shou'd
pass
the
beauteous
Flourisher
,
Advancing
Time
wou'd
all
its
Glory
marr
.
What
if
the
Muses
loudly
sang
my
Fame
,
The
barren
Mountains
ecchoing
with
my
Name
?
An
envious
puff
might
blast
the
rising
Pride
.
And
all
its
bright
conspicuous
Lustre
hide
.
If
o're
my
Relicks
Monuments
they
raise
And
fill
the
World
with
Flattery
,
or
with
Praise
,
What
wou'd
they
all
avail
,
if
sink
I
must
,
My
Soul
to
endless
shades
,
my
Body
to
the
dust
?