Since 'tis so then, little throbber,
You and I, alas! must part,
I'd not be thy comfort's robber;
To her I'll resign thee, heart.

Yet the maid in compensation
Must her own bestow on me,
And with such remuneration
Never shall I grieve for thee.

But should she, thy sorrows spurning,
This exchange, poor heart, deny,
Then I'll bear thee, heart, though mourning,
From her far and hasty fly.

But, alas! no pain assuaging,
That would but increase thy grief;
If kind Death still not its raging,
Granting thee a kind relief.






TIME.


O! Time, as thou on rapid wings
Encirclest earth's extensive ball,