I encountered this poem written by George Gordon, entitled 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' written between 1812 - 18 recently. The poet was dissatisfied with the narcissistic way of life at that time (!). I find it relevant.
There is but a moral of all human tales
'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past
First freedom and then glory, when that fails
Wealth, vice, corruption, barbarism at last
And history with all her volumes vast,
Hath but one page.