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Mary Darby Robinson - The Reply to Time
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O TIME, forgive the mournful song 
That on thy pinions stole along, 
When the rude hand of pain severe 
Chas`d down my cheek the burning tear; 
When sorrow chill`d each warm desire 
That kindles FANCY`S lambent fire; 
When HOPE, by fost`ring FRIENDSHIP rear`d, 
A phantom of the brain appear`d; 
Forgive the song, devoid of art, 
That stole spontaneous from my heart; 
For when that heart shall throb no more, 
And all its keen regrets be o`er; 
Should kind remembrance shed one tear 
To sacred FRIENDSHIP o`er my bier; 
When the dark precincts of the tomb, 
Shall hide me in its deepest gloom; 
O! should`st thou on thy wafting wing 
The sigh of gentle sorrow bring; 
Or fondly deign to bear the name 
Of one, alas! unknown to fame; 
Then, shall my weak untutor`d rhyme, 
Exulting boast the gifts of TIME. 

  But while I feel youth`s vivid fire 
Fann`d by the breath of care expire; 
While no blest ray of HOPE divine, 
O`er my chill`d bosom deigns to shine: 
While doom`d to mark the vapid day 
In tasteless languor waste away: 
Still, still, my sad and plaintive rhyme 
Must blame the ruthless pow`r of TIME. 

  Each infant flow`r of rainbow hue,
That bathes its head in morning dew,
At twilight droops; the mountain PINE,
Whose high and waving brows incline
O`er the white cataract`s foamy way,
Shall at THY withering touch decay!
The craggy cliffs that proudly rise
In awful splendour `midst the skies,
Shall to the vale in fragments roll,
Obedient to thy fell controul!
The loftiest fabric rear`d to fame;
The sculptur`d BUST, the POET`S name;
The softest tint of TITIAN die;
The boast of magic MINSTRELSY;
The vows to holy FRIENDSHIP dear;
The sainted smile of LOVE sincere, 
The flame that warms th` empassion`d heart;
All that fine feeling can impart;
The wonders of exterior grace;
The spells that bind the fairest face;
Fade in oblivion`s torpid hour
The victims of thy TYRANT POW`R!
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