The clouds may lour—but then his sun will smile.
O Time, thou teller of men’s fortunes, lend
Thy aid, and be propitious to my Friend!
Let me behold him prosperous, and his name
Enroll’d among the darling sons of Fame;
In love befriend him, and be his the bride,
Proud of her choice, and of her lord the pride!
“So shall my little bark attendant sail”—
(As Pope has sung)—and prosperous be the gale! 40
II.