NIGHT THE SECOND. ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF WILMINGTON. WHEN the Cock crew he wept,"-smote by that eye, Which looks on me, on all: That pow'r, who bids Emblem of that which shall awake the dead, Death, Friendship, and PHILANDER's final scene. Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengag'd, Fast binds; and vengeance claims the full arrear. My sickly song is mortal, past thy cure. Part with it as with money, sparing; pay And what its worth, ask death-beds; they can tell. With only hope of nobler time to come; Time higher aim'd, still nearer the great mark Thou say'st I preach, LORENZO! 'Tis confest. Will toys amuse, when med'cines cannot cure? Redeem we time?-Its loss we dearly buy. |