Time and Death

H ERE Time upheld me — there oppos'd was Death ,
Whose dart was pointed at a Rebel's breath:
" What phantom 's there? " he said, " and though his years
Bend him to Earth, a vital form appears?

" Why dost thou guard him thus, injurious Time?
As if the day was in its vernal prime?
How long is he to live? or is he never
The mind immortal from its chain to sever? "

Time answer'd — " He is not a vulgar prey;
The Muses court him, and 'tis their delay. "
Death shook his dart no more; it left his hand —
I fled uplifted — it was Time's command!
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