| DEVOURING Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws | |
| 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. |