The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 2/Life and Fame
LIFE AND FAME.
Oh, Life! thou Nothing's younger brother!So like, that one might take one for the other!What's somebody, or nobody?In all the cobwebs of the schoolmen's trade,We no such nice distinction woven see,As ’tis "to be," or "not to be."Dream of a shadow! a reflection madeFrom the false glories of the gay reflected bowIs a more solid thing than thou.Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly riseUp betwixt two eternities!Yet canst nor wave nor wind sustain,But, broken and o'erwhelm'd, the endless oceans meet again.
And with what rare inventions do we striveOurselves then to survive?Wise, subtle arts, and such as well befitThat Nothing Man's no wit!—Some with vast costly tombs would purchase it,And by the proofs of death pretend to live."Here lies the great"—false marble! where?Nothing but small and sordid dust lies there.—Some build enormous mountain-palaces,The fools and architects to please;A lasting life in well-hewn stone they rear:So he, who on th' Egyptian shoreWas slain so many hundred years before,Lives still (oh Life! most happy and most dear!Oh Life! that epicures envy to hear!)Lives in the dropping ruins of his amphitheatre.
His father-in-law an higher place does claimIn the seraphick entity of fame;He, since that toy his death,Does fill all mouths, and breathes in all men's breath.’Tis true, the two immortal syllables remain;But oh, ye learned men! explainWhat essence, what existence, this,What substance, what subsistence, what hypostasis,In six poor letters is!In those alone does the great Cæsar live,’Tis all the conquer'd world could give.We Poets, madder yet than all,With a refin'd fantastick vanity,Think we not only have, but give, eternity. Fain would I see that prodigal,Who his to-morrow would bestow,For all old Homer's life, e'er since he dy'd, till now!