And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
The stealthiness of his flight is also told by Shakspeare:
Let’s take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and our quick’st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Steals ere we can effect them.
Mayne thus quaintly describes his flight:
Time is the feather’d thing,