Omnipotent in Love's resistless might,
I'll force him back the ROAD OF YESTERDAY.
Last night, as o'er the page of Love's despair,
My Delia bent deliciously to grieve,
I stood a treacherous loiterer by her chair,
And drew the FATAL SCISSORS from my sleeve:
And would that at that instant o'er my thread
The shears of Atropos had open'd then;
And when I reft the lock from Delia's head,
Had cut me sudden from the sons of men!