‘Joys ill exchanged for riper years;’
The bard, alas! hath truly spoken:
I’ve wept the truth in burning tears
O’er many a fair hope crushed and broken.
In vain my sager, wiser friends
Told of thy speed and wing untiring;
I drank of Pleasure’s honied cup,
Nor marked thy flight, no change desiring;
When all too late I gave thee chase,
But found thou couldst not be o’ertaken: