Mortals! Around Your Destined Heads
Mortals! around your destined heads
Thick fly the shafts of death,
And lo! the savage spoiler spreads
A thousand toils beneath.
In vain we trifle with our fate,
Try every art in vain;
At best we but prolong the date,
And lengthen out our pain.
Fondly we think all danger fled,
For death is ever nigh;
Outstrips our unavailing speed,
Or meets us as we fly.
Thus the wrecked mariner may strive
Some desert shore to gain,
Secure of life, if he survive
The fury of the main.
But there, to famine doomed a prey,
Finds the mistaken wretch
He but escaped the troubled sea,
To perish on the beach.
Since then in vain we strive to guard
Our frailty from the foe,
Lord, let me live not unprepared
To meet the fatal blow!
poem by William Cowper
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Related quotes
In Vain
The stars in the sky
In vain
The tragedy of Hamlet
In vain
The key in the lock
In vain
The sleeping mother
In vain
The lamp in the corner
In vain
The lamp in the corner unlit
In vain
Abraham Lincoln
In vain
The Aztec empire
In vain
The writing hand: in vain
(The shoetrees in the shoes
In vain
The windowshade string upon
the hand bible
In vain—
The glitter of the greenglass
ashtray
In vain
The bear in the woods
In vain
The Life of Buddha
In vain)
poem by Jack Kerouac
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Bigotry's Victim
I.
Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind,
The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair?
When the tiger approaches can the fast-fleeting hind
Repose trust in his footsteps of air?
No! Abandoned he sinks in a trance of despair,
The monster transfixes his prey,
On the sand flows his life-blood away;
Whilst India's rocks to his death-yells reply,
Protracting the horrible harmony.
II.
Yet the fowl of the desert, when danger encroaches,
Dares fearless to perish defending her brood,
Though the fiercest of cloud-piercing tyrants approaches
Thirsting--ay, thirsting for blood;
And demands, like mankind, his brother for food;
Yet more lenient, more gentle than they;
For hunger, not glory, the prey
Must perish. Revenge does not howl in the dead.
Nor ambition with fame crown the murderer’s head.
III.
Though weak as the lama that bounds on the mountains,
And endued not with fast-fleeting footsteps of air,
Yet, yet will I draw from the purest of fountains,
Though a fiercer than tiger is there.
Though, more dreadful than death, it scatters despair,
Though its shadow eclipses the day,
And the darkness of deepest dismay
Spreads the influence of soul-chilling terror around,
And lowers on the corpses, that rot on the ground.
IV.
They came to the fountain to draw from its stream
Waves too pure, too celestial, for mortals to see;
They bathed for awhile in its silvery beam,
Then perished, and perished like me.
For in vain from the grasp of the Bigot I flee;
The most tenderly loved of my soul
Are slaves to his hated control.
He pursues me, he blasts me! 'Tis in vain that I fly:--
What remains, but to curse him,--to curse him and die?
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Separate Ways
Here we stand
Worlds apart, hearts broken in two, two, two
Sleepless nights
Losing ground
I'm reaching for you, you, you
Feelin' that it's gone
Can change your mind
If we can't go on
To survive the tide love divides
Someday love will find you
Break those chains that bind you
One night will remind you
How we touched
And went our separate ways
If he ever hurts you
True love won't desert you
You know i still love you
Though we touched
And went our separate ways
Troubled times
Caught between confusions and pain, pain, pain
Distant eyes
Promises we made were in vain, vain, vain
If you must go, i wish you love
You'll never walk alone
Take care my love
Miss you love
(chorus twice)
I still love you girl
I really love you girl
And if he ever hurts you
True love won't desert you
No, no
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Despair
Beneath this gloomy shade,
By Nature only for my sorrows made,
I'll spend this voyce in crys,
In tears I'll waste these eyes
By Love so vainly fed;
So Lust of old the Deluge punished.
Ah wretched youth! said I,
'Ah, wretched youth!' twice did I sadly cry:
'Ah, wretched youth!' the fields and floods reply.
When thoughts of Love I entertain,
I meet no words but 'Never,' and 'In vain.'
'Never' alas that dreadful name
Which fuels the infernal flame:
'Never,' My time to come must waste;
'In vain,' torments the present and the past.
'In vain, in vain!' said I;
'In vain, in vain!' twice did I sadly cry;
'In vain, in vain!' the fields and floods reply.
No more shall fields or floods do so;
For I to shades more dark and silent go:
All this world's noise appears to me
A dull ill-acted comedy:
No comfort to my wounded sight,
In the suns busy and imperti'nent Light.
Then down I laid my head;
Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
And my freed soul to a strange somewhere fled.
'Ah, sottish Soul' said I,
When back to its cage again I saw it fly;
'Fool to resume her broken chain!
And row her galley here again!'
'Fool, to that body to return
Where it condemn'd and destin'd is to burn!
Once dead, how can it be,
Death should a thing so pleasant seem to thee,
That thou should'st come to live it o're again in me?'
poem by Abraham Cowley
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Those All Are Vain
Those all are only vain
The quarrel and the sworn enemy
Those all are vain
The anger and the envy
Those are for vain
The greed and the arrogance
All are vain
The stubbornness and the hatred
Vain
The fear and the power
Just only vain
The pride and the hypocrite
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Of Charity
A beggar died last night; his soul
Went up to God, and said:
'I come uncalled, forgive it, Lord;
I died for want of bread.'
Then answered him the Lord of heaven:
'Son, how can this thing be?
Are not my saints on earth? and they
Had surely succoured thee.'
'Thy saints, O Lord,' the beggar said,
'Live holy lives of prayer;
How should they know of such as we?
We perish unaware.
'They strive to save our wicked souls
And fit them for the sky;
Meanwhile, not having bread to eat,
(Forgive!) our bodies die.'
Then the Lord God spake out of heaven
In wrath and angry pain:
'O men, for whom my Son hath died,
My Son hath lived in vain!'
poem by Arthur Symons
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D.e.a.t.h
The death is calling for you dear,
Your heart trembles in fear,
The soul starts to cries and shiver,
Bit by bit the body gain suffer,
Tumble around for death is a pain,
Struggling to live your effort is in vain,
Your body is a rotting meat you want to live?
Fools can cure death and you fools believe,
Acting foolish to avoid the death,
Planning to live till the aftermath,
To fools the plan is a flawless sound,
But death shall eat you like a flawless hound,
Just endure and not to cry,
All you can do is say goodbye.
Jarl’s Wake Youth’s Dream
Bright wake frozen horizon
snow crystals chill heavy cipher.
Still heard hoary ghost glorified voice.
Voice vibrating Viking furied forth.
Hunting on fierce defiant Arctic wind
pacing out time run eternal packed ice.
“Rage destined exile famed
birth right blade Jarl seize.
Strive death, sin stained,
birthmark fate be birth price.
Purposeless, plebeian spilt salt lust,
tempts base shame straw death.
Dying, death bound be outcast
warrior dies dust outsider doomed.
Hurled with savage savoured thrust;
darts, skilled flown, hawk prey, fled throw.
Quiver, between convulsive, rich walls,
torn red robed, wrap flesh, pierced marrow.
Dances dreams, laughs streams, in melt;
springs, freed flowing, lanced veins cut.
Youth evoked, fled swift flow, summoned;
cold bound, icicle laced, death conquered.
Youth, vain life, starkly smothered;
snow crystalline form; shape, flake.
Winging wayward, blown blooms,
seeded schemes, snow, eternal wind.
Ice, blood, iron held; destiny seized;
be real; all else, mere mortal delusion.”
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Jarl (Old English eorl Earl) ‘a man of noble birth’; hence used as the title of hereditary Norse and Danish chieftains; later, of the royal liege-man next in rank to the king whom they followed. An old Norse and Danish chieftain or under-king.
Plebeian [Latin. Plebs, the common people].
See also ‘Child Of Ice’ and ‘A Season Of Growth: The Swan Road’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Psalm 39 part 2
v.4-7
C. M.
The vanity of man as mortal.
Teach me the measure of my days,
Thou Maker of my frame;
I would survey life's narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.
A span is all that we can boast,
An inch or two of time;
Man is but vanity and dust
In all his flower and prime.
See the vain race of mortals move
Like shadows o'er the plain;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all the noise is vain.
Some walk in honor's gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore;
They toil for heirs, they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.
What should I wish or wait for, then,
From creatures earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.
Now I forbid my carnal hope,
My fond desires recall;
I give my mortal interest up,
And make my God my all.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 55
v.1-8,16-18,22
C. M.
Support for the afflicted and tempted soul.
O God, my refuge, hear my cries,
"Behold my flowing tears;
For earth and hell my hurt devise,
And triumph in my fears.
Their rage is leveled at my life,
My soul with guilt they load,
And fill my thoughts with inward strife,
To shake my hope in God.
With inward pain my heart-strings sound,
I groan with ev'ry breath;
Horror and fear beset me round
Amongst the shades of death.
O were I like a feathered dove,
And innocence had wings,
I'd fly, and make a long remove
From all these restless things.
Let me to some wild desert go,
And find a peaceful home;
Where storms of malice never blow,
Temptations never come.
Vain hopes, and vain inventions all
To 'scape the rage of hell!
The mighty God on whom I call,
Can save me here as well.
PAUSE.
By morning light I'll seek his face,
At noon repeat my cry;
The night shall hear me ask his grace,
Nor will he long deny.
God shall preserve my soul from fear,
Or shield me when afraid;
Ten thousand angels must appear,
If he command their aid.
I cast my burdens on the Lord,
The Lord sustains them all;
My courage rests upon his word,
That saints shall never fall.
My highest hopes shall not be vain,
My lips shall spread his praise;
While cruel and deceitful men
Scarce live out half their days.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Enough
Enough of this crazy run
Now it’s no more fun
Every moment my soul gets burned
Though still I don’t know where to turn
But enough of this fury & madness
It’s certainly now a hopeless case
Dreams are gone without a trace
And who is crying is anybody’s guess
How can one live with the broken faith
Can’t distinguish life from death
As life takes its last breathe
What I’ve become in love’s sake!
Tears of anguish and pain
Now it seems all went in vain
Everything to lose nothing to gain
What I got is total disdain
I just wanted love that is true
May be that’s too much to ask from you
Now I feel so lost and have no clue
Don’t want to live life with this blue
Life is crying and love is lost
Living with the tired thought
Fighting a battle that is already lost
This is the end; I’m trapped & caught
Enough of this living on the edge
Now I can’t kiss this frenzy & rage
Is this a curse or just my fate
And I don’t know whom to hate!
poem by Sourav RCY
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The Worldling
My barns are full, my stores increase,
And now, for many years,
Soul, eat and drink, and take thine ease,
Secure from wants and fears.
Thus while a worldling boasted once,
As many now presume;
He heard the Lord himself pronounce
His sudden, aweful doom.
This night, vain fool, thy soul must pass
Into a world unknown;
And who shall then the stores possess
Which thou hast called thine own.
Thus blinded mortals fondly scheme
For happiness below;
Till death disturb the pleasing dream,
And they awake to woe.
Ah! who can speak the vast dismay
That fills the sinner's mind;
When torn, by death's strong hand, away,
He leaves his all behind.
Wretches, who cleave to earthly things,
But are not rich to God;
Their dying hour is full of stings,
And hell their dark abode.
Dear Saviour, make us timely wise,
Thy gospel to attend;
That we may live above the skies,
When this poor life shall end.
poem by John Newton
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The Trouble With Pain
As I cut my wrists,
And clench my fists,
All I can think about is the pain,
and the fact that I cut my vain,
I am just screaming inside
Oh how I want to run and hide.
I wanted you there to help me cope
and jus give me the hope
that everything will be okay,
and how you will jus say
What was you thinking,
And you saw me sinking
Sinking into a pool of my own blood and tears
How the pain helps me with all of my fears.
Oh how I am ruining my life,
With this very sharp knife.
I hope I will make it to be your wife,
Cuz I wanna be wit you for the rest of my life.
Oh please god help me wit the pain
For i dont wanna cut my vain anymore,
For my wrist will be so sore,
Oh how I miss being formal,
I jus want everything back to normal,
Oh how I am in vain,
Cuz of all my pain I have gained.
For I want to die,
Instead of lie,
i jus wanna end it all,
and jus fall,
Fall to my death,
Of a overdose of meth.
poem by Jade Smith
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On a picture of my father
I strive in vain those features to restore
To Memory's faded tablets, which on me,
From the mute ivory, beam so lovingly,
And to recall their living light once more.
In vain I strive to pierce that veil of years,
And turn away all blinded with my tears.
But sometimes when the garish day is passed,
And night and sleep their spell upon me cast,
Thou comest to me, my father, from above,
And then for that brief moment I am blest,
For I am folded to thy sheltering breast;
And in the sacred rapture of thy love
A holy spell is on my spirit laid:
This mighty hunger of my heart is stayed.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hymn 24
The rich sinner dying.
Psa. 49:6,9; Eccl. 8:8; Job 3:14,15.
In vain the wealthy mortals toil,
And heap their shining dust in vain,
Look down and scorn the humble poor,
And boast their lofty hills of gain.
Their golden cordials cannot ease
Their pained hearts or aching heads,
Nor fright nor bribe approaching death
From glitt'ring roofs and downy beds.
The ling'ring, the unwilling soul
The dismal summons must obey,
And bid a long, a sad farewell
To the pale lump of lifeless clay.
Thence they are huddled to the grave,
Where kings and slaves have equal thrones;
Their bones without distinction lie
Amongst the heap of meaner bones.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Knight of St. John
Ere down yon blue Carpathian hills
The sun shall sink again,
Farewell to life and all its ills,
Farewell to cell and chain!
These prison shades are dark and cold,
But, darker far than they,
The shadow of a sorrow old
Is on my heart alway.
For since the day when Warkworth wood
Closed o'er my steed, and I,
An alien from my name and blood,
A weed cast out to die,-
When, looking back in sunset light,
I saw her turret gleam,
And from its casement, far and white,
Her sign of farewell stream,
Like one who, from some desert shore,
Doth home's green isles descry,
And, vainly longing, gazes o'er
The waste of wave and sky;
So from the desert of my fate
I gaze across the past;
Forever on life's dial-plate
The shade is backward cast!
I've wandered wide from shore to shore,
I've knelt at many a shrine;
And bowed me to the rocky floor
Where Bethlehem's tapers shine;
And by the Holy Sepulchre
I've pledged my knightly sword
To Christ, His blessed Church, and her,
The Mother of our Lord.
Oh, vain the vow, and vain the strife!
How vain do all things seem!
My soul is in the past, and life
To-day is but a dream.
In vain the penance strange and long,
And hard for flesh to bear;
The prayer, the fasting, and the thong,
And sackcloth shirt of hair.
The eyes of memory will not sleep,
Its ears are open still;
And vigils with the past they keep
Against my feeble will.
And still the loves and joys of old
Do evermore uprise;
I see the flow of locks of gold,
The shine of loving eyes!
Ah me! upon another's breast
Those golden locks recline;
I see upon another rest
The glance that once was mine.
'O faithless priest! O perjured knight!'
I hear the Master cry;
'Shut out the vision from thy sight,
Let Earth and Nature die.
'The Church of God is now thy spouse,
And thou the bridegroom art;
Then let the burden of thy vows
Crush down thy human heart!'
In vain! This heart its grief must know,
Till life itself hath ceased,
And falls beneath the self-same blow
The lover and the priest!
O pitying Mother! souls of light,
And saints and martyrs old!
Pray for a weak and sinful knight,
A suffering man uphold.
Then let the Paynim work his will,
And death unbind my chain,
Ere down yon blue Carpathian hill
The sun shall fall again.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Shooting Up In Vain
Waking up as the sun goes down
Body all in pain
Straight out the door to the worst part of town
Shooting up in vain
Slips all his money to the man
Here we go again....here we go again
Got bags of mercy in the palm of his hand
Shooting up in vain
Chorus:
So he heads for the closest rooftop
And now hes free with the skyline begind
But it wont be long until his high will drop
Then you know what hell try to find
Such a shame
Now hes back on that hunt for more
Body all in pain
Wanting to get back to where he was before
Shooting up in vain
So now he goes and sells his wedding ring
Here we go again......here we go again
But now hes sold exactly everything
Shooting up in vain
Chorus
Such a shame
Down to the bed as the sun goes up
Body all in pain
Now he swears hes going to stop
Shooting up in vain
Hes dr. jekyll and hes mr. hyde
Hes got to listen to that voice deep inside
Got a one-way ticket on a derailed train
Got a one-way ticket on a derailed train
Shooting up in vain
Such a shame
Such a shame
Got a one-way ticket on a derailed train
Got to stop shooting up in vain.............(repeat)
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vanity Of Life
The evils that beset our path
Who can prevent or cure?
We stand upon the brink of death
When most we seem secure.
If we today sweet peace possess,
It soon may be withdrawn;
Some change may plunge us in distress,
Before tomorrow's dawn.
Disease and pain invade our health
And find an easy prey;
And oft, when least expected, wealth
Takes wings and flies away.
A fever or a blow can shake
Our wisdom's boasted rule;
And of the brightest genius make
A madman or a fool.
The gourds, from which we look for fruit,
Produce us only pain;
A worm unseen attacks the root,
And all our hopes are vain.
I pity those who seek no more
Than such a world can give;
Wretched they are, and blind, and poor,
And dying while they live.
Since sin has filled the earth with woe,
And creatures fade and die;
Lord wean our hearts from things below,
And fix our hopes on high.
poem by John Newton
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Psalm 89 part 6
v.47ff
L. M.
Mortality and hope. A funeral psalm.
Remember, Lord, our mortal state,
How frail our life! how short the date!
Where is the man that draws his breath
Safe from disease, secure from death'?
Lord, while we see whole nations die,
Our flesh and sense repine and cry,
"Must death for ever rage and reign?
Or hast thou made mankind in vain?
"Where is thy promise to the just?
Are not thy servants turned to dust?"
But faith forbids these mournful sighs,
And sees the sleeping dust arise.
That glorious hour, that dreadful day,
Wipes the reproach of saints away,
And clears the honor of thy word:
Awake, our souls, and bless the Lord.
poem by Isaac Watts
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If I can stop one heart from breaking,
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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