----------------------------------------------------------------------------
This file was prepared and is ©2022 by Keygen Ltd LLC for The Proud Reader™ project.
https://theproudreader.com/
https://k3y93n.com/

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHnUg4W9wkn2ISDoCxucd_A
https://www.bitchute.com/theproudreader/
https://rumble.com/c/TheProudReader
https://odysee.com/@TheProudReader:c

https://www.minds.com/TheProudReader
https://gab.com/TheProudReader
https://parler.com/profile/TheProudReader
https://twitter.com/TheProudReader

https://www.patreon.com/TheProudReader
https://www.subscribestar.com/theproudreader
https://www.paypal.com/biz/fund?id=5GFSVWEHUPK66

This document is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International license (CC BY-SA 4.0) https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

Keygen Ltd LLC provides no warranty as to the accuracy of the information or text included in this document. It is provided "as is" and is for entertainment purposes.

However, the text below this paragraph is in the public domain, is not subject to the above license, and may be used freely on its own as you see fit—for commercial and non-commercial purposes. Only this document as a whole falls under the CC BY-SA 4.0. If you do use the below text, we would still appreciate a nod since we did the hard work and fixed OCR errors in many cases, but attribution is only required if you modify and redistribute this file.

Enjoy!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
All is Vanity, Saith the Preacher
George Gordon Lord Byron

written Seaham, 1815

translated info

published in Hebrew Melodies, page 28-29
by London: for John Murray, Albermarle-Street, 1815



I.
Fame, Wisdom, Love, and Power were mine,
  And Health and Youth possess'd me;
My goblets blush'd from every vine,
  And lovely forms caress'd me;
 
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
  And felt my soul grow tender;
All Earth can give, or mortal prize,
  Was mine of regal splendour.

II.
I strive to number o'er what days
  Remembrance can discover,
Which all that Life or Earth displays
  Would lure me to live over.
  
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour
  Of pleasure unembittered;
And not a trapping deck'd my Power
  That galled not while it glittered.

III.
The serpent of the field, by art
  And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
  Oh! who hath power of charming?
 
It will not list to Wisdom's lore,
  Nor Music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
  The soul that must endure it.