If at this very moment we were to uncover the slab of a most decent tomb, and someone within were to speak to us, the very first word he would utter would be “VANITY.” And he would say:
O mortal, stand still for a couple of minutes and heed me as well,
I shall tell thee wise counsel that profits thee well.
Thou seest me a bare skeleton, devoid of all fancy,
And sayest I was nothing, giving me no agency.
Yet once in my years I possessed all the graces,
And walked in my pride with high-arched embraces.
I, too, had my glory, Socrates’ deep lore,
Hercules’ strength, and wide fame on each shore.
I had a lion’s true heart, and arms iron-strong,
Untiring my feet, and a breast marble-long.
I had the nightingale’s tongue, and large eyes dark and bright,
And some told me all these things were my delight.
Therefore I rejoiced much, deeming earth’s beacon me,
And reckoned in mind death would never touch me.
Yet I never perceived it, as the years drifted past,
And my youth fled away like the snows of March blast.
All the feasting and joys passed like wind on the air,
And my whole life appeared like a single day there.
When I felt my old age, and recalled days gone by,
It seemed strange that my hair white as snow did descry.
The light from mine eyes grew diminished and low,
And my mind still refused to believe I aged so.
My poor feet grew so feeble, my hands would not move,
My teeth decayed too, making bitter reproof.
I perceived then the death drawing nigh to its close,
And I lifted my voice with lamenting and throes:
“What sorcerer brings back life, what physician to seek,
Who has power and might death’s cold clutches to break?
I will gift him rich lands, and all gold he desires,
If he shatter death’s sword and the shafts it inspires!”
Not a soul answered me, not a creature replied,
To restore back my youth, or where safety might hide.
Then one day in bright April, when least it was meant,
Someone struck at my door with a savage intent.
He was tall and pitch-black. What could I do? I cried out,
As with terrifying voice he commanded about:
“Arise!” He rent open my entrails and breast,
Took my soul, and my wealth and fine garments possessed.
And now where are the fields and the palaces high,
The rose-tinted cheeks, and the tongue and the eye?
Worms have eaten the body, the beauty, the frame,
For from mud we were made, and to dust we became.
My friends and my kindred, I bid you not weep,
Let the memorial candle and “Forgive” guard my sleep.
Even as thou seest me, mortal, thou too shalt descend,
Therefore boast not in life that must come to an end.
When thou’rt aged, do not say, “Good deeds then I’ll show,
To the church I will go, and alms freely bestow.”
For death is a glutton with no terms or delay,
He spares not a friend, takes no bribes on his way.
He takes mothers of babes, youths who revel and play,
Babes straight from their cradles, and maidens at bay.
Keep death in thy thoughts full seven times every hour,
Others lived in this life, but they now have no power.
At each step take good heed of the enemy’s snare,
Wrong no orphan, nor widows, but keep them with care.
Keep faithfully all of the laws without flaw,
The commands of sweet Moses, the New Testament’s law.
Do no work on the Sabbath or feast days of grace,
Keep thy soul undefiled and a pure dwelling-place.
Look not with lust, nor blaspheme things divine,
And treat Satan’s fierce power with contempt absolute fine.
All the sins of the day, ere the sun sinks from sight,
By all means known to God, blot out clean in the night.
Alms, prayer, and fasting, and love side by side,
These shall save thy soul—do not mock them aside!
Love thy neighbor as self, do no evil to man,
For soon or quite fast thou shalt fade, and life’s span
Shall be quenched in death’s night.
And now, reader, what dost thou purpose to do?
Lay these words in thy mind, keep them faithful and true:
For where thou now art, I once stood in my prime,
And where I now lie, thou shalt come in due time.
O man, draw near and hearken to my plight, Though stripped of flesh, I yet impart the light. Time was, my form was fashioned fair to see, And I did walk in haughty majesty.
I bore the wisdom that the sages teach, The strength of Hercules was in my reach; The lion’s heart, the marble breast I had, With beauty’s grace and comely visage clad.
I deemed myself the beacon of the earth, And scoffed at death, as nothing were its worth. But ere I knew, the fleeting years had fled, And all my youth, like March’s snow, was sped.
The dance, the song, the joys I held so dear, Did pass as doth a whisper on the air. When creeping age did steal upon my prime, I stood amazed at ravages of time.
My sight grew dim, my steps did falter slow, My mind refused to think it aged so. My limbs grew stiff, my teeth did waste away, And nature cried aloud of its decay.
Then came the dread approach of final night, And I, affrighted, shrieked in mortal fright. “What sorcerer can lengthen out my span? What leech can heal the dying hopes of man?
I’ll give vast lands, and treasures yet untold, If he but break the shaft of death so cold!” But none replied, no comfort could they give, No power on earth could bid my spirit live.
Then came a day, in April’s fickle bloom, A grim, dark form did summon to the doom. A throe of dread did bid my soul arise, And rent the ties of all my earthly prize.
As I am now, so shalt thou surely be, Therefore forsake the world’s vain pageantry. Nor say, “When age arrives, I’ll turn to God,” For death doth strike, and breaks the youthful rod.
He takes the babe, the mother in her bloom, The sturdy youth, the maiden at her loom. Then ponder death seven times throughout the hour, For they who lived are now beyond all power.
At every step, beware the tempter’s snare, Nor wrong the widow, nor the orphan’s share. Keep faith’s commands, the Holy Gospel’s law, And from the cup of life fresh wisdom draw.
Upon the Sabbath, cease from worldly toil, And keep the soul, lest worldly care should soil. Abstain from sin, nor blaspheme things divine, But turn thy heart to wisdom’s holy shrine.
Ere sets the sun, wash clean thy daily stain, By prayer and tears, lest all thy works be vain. Alms, fasting, love, and vigils of the night, These save the soul and lead to God’s own light.
Love thou thy neighbor, do no deed of ill, For soon or late, the grave thou too must fill. And now, dear reader, what is thy intent? Heed well the words that from the dust are sent, for wheresoever I am, thou surely shalt arrive.
Vanity of vanities, everything is vanity!