T' outwrastle Time, we have but built on ice:
For firme however all our structures be,
Polisht with smoothest Indian Ivory,
Rais'd high on marble, our unthankfull heire
Will scarce retaine in memory, that we were.
Tracke through the ayre the footesteps of the wind,
And search the print of ships sayl'd by; then finde
Where all the glories of those Monarchs be
Who bore such sway in the worlds infancie.
Time hath devour'd them all: and scarce can fame