Whether the Muse or Love called thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
II.
ON HIS HAVING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE.
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth 5
That I to manhood am arrived so near;