|
|
| Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, | 1 |
|
|
| And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; |
|
|
| Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, |
|
|
| And burn the long-liv'd phoenix, in her blood; |
|
|
| Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, | 5 |
|
|
| And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, |
|
|
| To the wide world and all her fading sweets; |
|
|
| But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: |
|
|
| O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, |
|
|
| Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; | 10 |
|
|
| Him in thy course untainted do allow |
|
|
| For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. |
|
|
 Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong, |
|
|
| My love shall in my verse ever live young. |
|
|
