Inscrib’d with mighty deed, or proud event,
Yet, on some few small eminencies, glow
The heart’s rejoicing-lights of self-applause;
Some generous claims surmount the gloom below,
And shame and sharp regrets a moment pause;
Yet these prevail—ah! might my wish prevail
That Time would turn my near exhausted glass;
Then not a grain should of its harvest fail;—
Seeds are but sands when unimprov’d they pass.
Vain wish! vain promise! what dost thou presume,