Vanity of Spirit

Vanity of Spirit
By Henry Vaughan


Quite spent with thoughts I left my Cell, and lay
Where a shrill spring tun'd to the early day.
     I beg'd here long, and gron'd to know
     Who gave the Clouds so brave a bow
     Who bent the spheres, and circled in
     Corruption with this glorious Ring,
     What is his name, and how I might
     Descry some part of his great light.
I summon'd nature: peirc'd through all her store,
Broke up some seales, which none had touch'd before,
     Her wombe, her bosome, and her head
     Where all her secrets lay a bed
     I rifled quite, and having past
     Through all the Creatures, came at last
     To search my selfe, where I did find
     Traces, and sounds of a strange kind.
Here of this mighty spring, I found some drills,
With Ecchoes beaten from th' eternall hills;
     Weak beames, and fires flash'd to my sight,
     Like a young East, or Moone-shine night,
     Which shew'd me in a nook cast by
     A peece of much antiquity,
     With Hyerogliphicks quite dismembred,
     And broken letter scarce remembred.
 I took them up, and (much Joy'd,) went about
T' unite those peeces, hoping to find out
     The mystery; but this neer done,
     That little light I had was gone:
     It griev'd me much.  At last, said I,
     Since in these veyls my Ecclips'd Eye
     May not approach thee, (for at night
     Who can have commerce with the light?)
     I'le disapparell, and to buy
     But one half glaunce, most gladly dye.