Time , as the full of years was nam'd,
Who all his life in journeys pass'd,
Came to a River, and exclaim'd,
" On me an eye of pity cast.

Alas! that I should be delay'd,
Who count each moment as it flies:
A boat, in charitable aid,
Before the pelting storms arise! "

Love, on the River's bank oppos'd,
With many a dancing Nymph appear'd:
All to relieve him interpos'd,
Each trimm'd the boat that Pleasure steer'd.

Love, gaily paddling to the shore,
Came where the good old creature stood;
With gentle force the captive bore,
And stemm'd with art the rising flood.

His oar with grace the infant plied,
And cheer'd his toil with playful rhyme.
" You see, " the little boatman cried,
That Love's the Ferryman of Time. "

But soon, fatigued, he pull'd no more;
Alas! 'twas ever his defect!
He gave the passenger his oar,
And felt his wanton spirit check'd.

" Where now, " quoth Time, " is Cupid's arm;
Too gay to fear, too weak to last?
Mine is the song, and mine the charm;
'Tis Time that pulls — 'twas Love that pass'd. "
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