Time! on whose arbitrary wing

　　The varying hours must flag or fly,

　　Whose tardy¹ winter, fleeting² spring,

　　But drag or drive us on to die——

　　Hail thou! who on my birth bestowed³

　　Those boons⁴ to all that know thee known;

　　Yet better I sustain thy load,

　　For now I bear the weight alone.

　　I would not one fond heart should share

　　The bitter moments thou hast given;

　　And pardon thee——since thou couldst spare

　　All that I loved, to peace or Heaven.

　　To them be joy or rest——on me

　　Thy future ills shall press in vain;

　　I nothing owe but years to thee,

　　A debt already paid in pain.

　　Yet even that pain was some relief;

　　It felt, but still forgot thy power:

　　The active agony of grief

　　Retards⁵, but never counts the hour.

　　In joy I've sighed to think thy flight

　　Would soon subside⁶ from swift to slow;

　　Thy cloud could overcast⁷ the light,

　　But could not add a night to Woe⁸;

　　For then, however drear and dark,

　　My soul was suited to thy sky;

　　One star alone shot forth⁹ a spark

　　To prove thee——not Eternity¹⁰.

　　That beam hath sunk——and now thou art

　　A blank——a thing to count and curse

　　Through each dull tedious trifling¹¹ part,

　　Which all regret, yet all rehearse.

　　One scene even thou canst not deform——

　　The limit of thy sloth¹² or speed

　　When future wanderers bear the storm

　　Which we shall sleep too sound to heed¹³.

　　And I can smile to think how weak

　　Thine efforts shortly shall be shown,

　　When all the vengeance¹⁴ thou canst wreak¹⁵

　　Must fall upon——a nameless stone.