Classic Poem

Give o're your greedinesse, muck-worms give o're,
And trade no more;
For apes and peacocks, and such petty toyes
Are fit for boyes.
Men that have reason and religion too,
Scorne so to do;
They count that voyage lost that brings
No better things.
For all the treasures of the earth will not
Make a man happy if they could be got.

Some think the Indies to the King of Spain
Bring little gaine,
And that our Seventh Henry was more wise
Them to despise,
Though offered to him; this we know, that Prince
Is poorer since;
And notwithstanding all his golden mines
He stil declines;
For all those treasures which are fetcht from far,
When home they come are strait consum'd in war.

What private man can then his riches boast?
He that had most
Amongst us when our troubles first begun,
Is now undone;
And he that since of thousands is possest,
Thought kept in's chest
Fast under lock and key, may soon be brought
Not worth a groat.
Thus Fortune's wheele is turning up and down,
To-day 'twil smile on thee, to-morrow frown.

Who then of this world's wealth would guilty bee,
Since that we see
No certaintie in riches can be had?
That man is mad
Who seeks to hedge the cuckoe in, and stay
What wil away.
For riches, wings unto themselves do make,
And their flight take,
Like th' eagle towards heaven; none can hold
Or clip their wings though they be made of gold.

Be wise, and lay up treasures that are sure
And wil endure
In spite of fraud or force. Heaven's the place
The treasures, grace.
When all your temporal estates do perish,
This stil shal flourish.
How much it doth all earthly goods excel,
I cannnot tell;
But this I can assure you, there is none
Can bring it under sequestration.

Travel by sea or land, go where you will,
'Tis with you still;
It costs you nought the portage, nor will make
Your back to ake.
No burthen 'tis, but full of ease and joy
In the convoy.
No soldier nor pirate can it force,
Or make divorce
'Twixt you and it. Once fix it in your heart,
And make much of it, it will ne're depart;

But grow from grace to grace, and never cease
For to increase,
Bringing fruits of piety and love,
Making us move
Fast towards our center, Heaven, until our soul
Knock at the pole
And enter into that eternal rest
With all the blest
Society of saints and angels; this
When all is done the only treasure is.