1   Time! on whose arbitrary wing      The varying hours must flag or fly,   Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring,      But drag or drive us on to die— 2   Hail thou! who on my birth bestowed      Those boons to all that know thee known;   Yet better I sustain thy load,      For now I bear the weight alone. 3   I would not one fond heart should share      The bitter moments thou hast given;   And pardon thee—since thou couldst spare      All that I loved, to peace or Heaven. 4   To them be joy or rest—on me      Thy future ills shall press in vain;   I nothing owe but years to thee,      A debt already paid in pain. 5   Yet even that pain was some relief;      It felt, but still forgot thy power:   The active agony of grief      Retards, but never counts the hour. 6   In joy I’ve sighed to think thy flight      Would soon subside from swift to slow;   Thy cloud could overcast the light,      But could not add a night to Woe; 7   For then, however drear and dark,      My soul was suited to thy sky;   One star alone shot forth a spark      To prove thee—not Eternity. 8   That beam hath sunk—and now thou art      A blank—a thing to count and curse   Through each dull tedious trifling part,      Which all regret, yet all rehearse. 9   One scene even thou canst not deform—      The limit of thy sloth or speed   When future wanderers bear the storm      Which we shall sleep too sound to heed. 10   And I can smile to think how weak      Thine efforts shortly shall be shown,   When all the vengeance thou canst wreak      Must fall upon—a nameless stone.