Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine, And health and youth possessed me; My goblets blushed from every vine, And lovely forms caressed me; I sunned my heart in beautyâ€™ eyes, And felt my soul grow tender; All earth can give, or mortal prize, Was mine of regal splendour.
I strive to number oâ€™er what days Remembrance can discover, Which all that life or earth displays Would lure me to live over. There rose no day, there rolled no hour Of pleasure unembittered; And not a trapping decked my power That galled not while it glittered.
The serpent of the field, by art And spells, is won from harming; But that which soils around the heart, Oh! who hath power of charming? It will not list to wisdomâ€™s lore, Nor musicâ€™s voice can lure it; But there it stings for evermore The soul that must endure it.