"Time, Love, and the Graces"

As sporting in the Myrtle shade,

With infant Love the graces play’d,

Beneath their favord grove they spied

Old Time advance, with rapid Stride,

And threaten, on his Pinions grey,

To bear their Playfellow away:

They hid him in the deepest Bow’r,

And strew’d his Bed with Leaf and Flow’r;

While trembling lay their little guest,

The Graces thus his Foe addrest:

Great Monarch, spare our dearest Joy,

All pow’rful Time. O! spare the Boy!

And we will to your altar bring,

With Summer Fruits, the Flow’rs of Spring,

And twine the brightly blushing Rose,

With Ivy Wreaths to bind your Brows.

The hoary Monarch yielding smil’d,

Protect, he cried, your fav’rite child,

And while the graces guard his Bow’r,

Love need not tremble at my Pow’r,

But safe from my Advances view

The Steps of Time restrain’d by you.