A Translation out of Synesius

WIT, alas, what idle Charms!
Herculean Strength, or Milo's Arms!
Beauty, what ground for Pride is there?
Or Gold, as trifling as the Fair!
What Halcyons build within a Crown?
What solid Pleasure's in Renown?
If in an equal Ballance laid,
And by a hand impartial weigh'd,
With serious and Divine affairs,
With holy and Religious cares,
Compar'd with the Almighty's Love,
Lighter than Vanity they'll prove.
One easily outstrips in course,
The best that ever back'd a Horse;
Can ride Bucephalus full speed,
Or one of Neptune's generous Breed:
Can make his fiery Courser fly,
Like winged Lightning, through the Sky.
Another has prodigious store,
Mountains and Seas of Golden Ore;
The Miser's heart could wish no more.
Whom Midas envying, would prevent,
And of his second wish repent.
One is a Cretan at his Bow,
Can shoot a very Hair in two;
Excels the Master of this Art,
Makes Teucer lay it deep to heart;
And what was formerly his Pride,
His Bow, as useless, throw aside.
Another has a comely Face;
(And when there's Beauty in the case,
What Spell can lay this Spirit? what Charms
Of humane power resist these Arms?)
H'as such a Beauty so divine,
Nireus his Title would resign,
And emulous Narcissus pine.
Another prides in Noble Bloud;
Another in a numerous Brood
Of lovely Girls and hopeful Boys,
Their Countries Props, and Parents Joys;
Of Danaus and Aegyptus Stock,
A great and a well-order'd Flock.
This is my Wish, (let them have theirs,
Which are the least of all my cares,)
Let me live private and obscure,
From Noise, and Pride, and Scorn secure;
From the drie Complements of Court,
Glistning Glo-worms! Fortunes sport!
From mean Ambition, lying Fame,
Base Actions, and a tainted Name.
No fine-spun Cobwebs of the Great,
No gay Contrivances of State:
No gilded Greatness, empty shows,
(Mis-guiding Meteors!) make me lose
That happy Path that I would chose.
Let me with Aglaus be found,
Pleas'd in my little spot of ground;
Or blest with the poor Gardner's fate,
Envied by Alexander's state.
Abdolonymus, only known
To some poor Pot-herbs of his own;
Gardner, degraded to a Throne!
What if the World should never hear
Of such a one as Go—l there?
On Earth let me a Cypher be,
So I make one, my God, with thee.
Here let me, as a stranger, live,
At best a nameless Expletive;
So to my self I am but known,
And unto thee, my God, alone.