Baffles old Time, the tyrant, wholly,
And makes him turn his hour-glass slowly;
Nay, makes as 'twere of every glass six,
Whereby we beat the heathen classics
With their weak Chians and their Massics.
These gave his glass a quicker twist,
And flew the hours like driving mist,
While Horace drank and Lesbia kissed.
How are we gainers when all's done,
If Life's swift clepsydra have run