The Triumph of Time

Behind Aurora's wheels the rising sunHis voyage from his golden shrine begun,With such ethereal speed, as if the HoursHad caught him slumb'ring in her rosy bowers.With lordly eye, that reach'd the world's extreme,Methought he look'd, when, gliding on his beam,That winged power approach'd that wheels his carIn its wide annual range from star to star,Measuring vicissitude; till, now more near,Methought these thrilling accents met my ear:--"New laws must be observed if mortals claim,Spite of the lapse of time, eternal fame.Those laws have lost their force that Heaven decreed,And I my circle run with fruitless speed;If fame's loud breath the slumb'ring dust inspire,And bid to live with never-dying fire,My power, that measures mortal things, is cross'd,And my long glories in oblivion lost.If mortals on yon planet's shadowy face,Can match the tenor of my heavenly race,I strive with fruitless speed from year to yearTo keep precedence o'er a lower sphere.In vain yon flaming coursers I prepare,In vain the watery world and ambient airTheir vigour feeds, if thus, with angels' flightA mortal can o'ertake the race of light!Were you a lesser planet, doom'd to runA shorter journey round a nobler sun;Ranging among yon dusky orbs below,A more degrading doom I could not know:Now spread your swiftest wings, my steeds of flame,We must not yield to man's ambitious aim.With emulation's noblest fires I glow,And soon that reptile race that boast belowBright Fame's conducting lamp, that seems to vieWith my incessant journeys round the sky,And gains, or seems to gain, increasing light,Yet shall its glories sink in gradual night.But I am still the same; my course beganBefore that dusky orb, the seat of man,Was built in ambient air: with constant swayI lead the grateful change of night and day,To one ethereal track for ever bound,And ever treading one eternal round."--And now, methought, with more than mortal ire,He seem'd to lash along his steeds of fire;And shot along the air with glancing ray,Swift as a falcon darting on its prey;No planet's swift career could match his speed,That seem'd the power of fancy to exceed.The courier of the sky I mark'd with dread,As by degrees the baseless fabric fledThat human power had built, while high disdainI felt within to see the toiling trainStriving to seize each transitory thingThat fleets away on dissolution's wing;And soonest from the firmest grasp recede,Like airy forms, with tantalizing speed.O mortals! ere the vital powers decay,Or palsied eld obscures the mental ray,Raise your affections to the things above,Which time or fickle chance can never move.Had you but seen what I despair to sing,How fast his courser plied the flaming wingWith unremitted speed, the soaring mindHad left his low terrestrial cares behind.But what an awful change of earth and skyAll in a moment pass'd before my eye!Now rigid winter stretch'd her brumal reignWith frown Gorgonean over land and main;And Flora now her gaudy mantle spread,And many a blushing rose adorn'd her bed:The momentary seasons seem'd to fleetFrom bright solstitial dews to winter's driving sleet.In circle multiform, and swift career:A wondrous tale, untold to mortal earBefore: yet reason's calm unbiass'd viewMust soon pronounce the seeming fable true,When deep remorse for many a wasted springStill haunts the frighted soul on demon wing.Fond hope allured me on with meteor flight,And Love my fancy fed with vain delight,Chasing through fairy fields her pageants gay.But now, at last, a clear and steady ray,From reason's mirror sent, my folly shows,And on my sight the hideous image throwsOf what I am--a mind eclipsed and lost,By vice degraded from its noble postBut yet, e'en yet, the mind's elastic springBuoys up my powers on resolution's wing,While on the flight of time, with rueful gazeIntent, I try to thread the backward maze,And husband what remains, a scanty space.Few fleeting hours, alas! have pass'd away,Since a weak infant in the lap I lay;For what is human life but one uncertain day!Now hid by flying vapours, dark and cold,And brighten'd now with gleams of sunny gold,That mock the gazer's eye with gaudy show,And leave the victim to substantial woe:Yet hope can live beneath the stormy sky,And empty pleasures have their pinions ply;And frantic pride exalts the lofty brow,Nor marks the snares of death that lurk below.Uncertain, whether now the shaft of fateSings on the wind, or heaven prolongs my date.I see my hours run on with cruel speed,And in my doom the fate of all I read;A certain doom, which nature's self must feelWhen the dread sentence checks the mundane wheel.Go! court the smiles of Hope, ye thoughtless crew!Her fairy scenes disclose an ample viewTo brainless men. But Wisdom o'er the fieldCasts her keen glance, and lifts her beamy shieldTo meet the point of Fate, that flies afar,And with stern vigilance expects the war.Perhaps in vain my admonitions fall,Yet still the Muse repeats the solemn call;Nor can she see unmoved your senses drown'dBy Circe's deadly spells in sleep profound.She cannot see the flying seasons rollIn dread succession to the final goal,And sweep the tribes of men so fast away,To Stygian darkness or eternal day,With unconcern.--Oh! yet the doom repealBefore your callous hearts forget to feel;E'er Penitence foregoes her fruitless toil,Or hell's black regent claims his human spoilOh, haste! before the fatal arrows flyThat send you headlong to the nether skyWhen down the gulf the sons of folly goIn sad procession to the seat of woe!Thus deeply musing on the rapid roundOf planetary speed, in thought profoundI stood, and long bewail'd my wasted hours,My vain afflictions, and my squander'd powers:When, in deliberate march, a train was seenIn silent order moving o'er the green;A band that seem'd to hold in high disdainThe desolating power of Time's resistless reign:Their names were hallow'd in the Muse's song,Wafted by fame from age to age along,High o'er oblivion's deep, devouring wave,Where millions find an unrefunding grave.With envious glance the changeful power beheldThe glorious phalanx which his power repell'd,And faster now the fiery chariot flew,While Fame appear'd the rapid flight to rue,And labour'd some to save. But, close behind,I heard a voice, which, like the western wind,That whispers softly through the summer shade,These solemn accents to mine ear convey'd:--"Man is a falling flower; and Fame in vainStrives to protract his momentaneous reignBeyond his bounds, to match the rolling tide,On whose dread waves the long olympiads ride,Till, fed by time, the deep procession grows,And in long centuries continuous flows;For what the power of ages can oppose?Though Tempe's rolling flood, or Hebrus claimRenown, they soon shall live an empty name.Where are their heroes now, and those who ledThe files of war by Xanthus' gory bed?Or Tuscan Tyber's more illustrious band,Whose conquering eagles flew o'er sea and land?What is renown?--a gleam of transient light,That soon an envious cloud involves in night,While passing Time's malignant hands diffuseOn many a noble name pernicious dews.Thus our terrestrial glories fade away,Our triumphs pass the pageants of a day;Our fields exchange their lords, our kingdoms fall,And thrones are wrapt in Hades' funeral pallYet virtue seldom gains what vice had lost,And oft the hopes of good desert are cross'd.Not wealth alone, but mental stores decay,And, like the gifts of Mammon, pass away;Nor wisdom, wealth, nor fortune can withstandHis desolating march by sea and land;Nor prayers, nor regal power his wheels restrain,Till he has ground us down to dust again.Though various are the titles men can plead,Some for a time enjoy the glorious meedThat merit claims; yet unrelenting fateOn all the doom pronounces soon or late;And whatsoe'er the vulgar think or say,Were not your lives thus shorten'd to a day,Your eyes would see the consummating powerHis countless millions at a meal devour."And reason's voice my stubborn mind subdued;Conviction soon the solemn words pursued;I saw all mortal glory pass away,Like vernal snows beneath the rising ray;And wealth, and power, and honour, strive in vainTo 'scape the laws of Time's despotic reign.Though still to vulgar eyes they seem to claimA lot conspicuous in the lists of Fame,Transient as human joys; to feeble ageThey love to linger on this earthly stage,And think it cruel to be call'd awayOn the faint morn of life's disastrous day.Yet ah! how many infants on the breastBy Heaven's indulgence sink to endless rest!And oft decrepid age his lot bewails,Whom every ill of lengthen'd life assails.Hence sick despondence thinks the human lotA gift of fleeting breath too dearly bought:But should the voice of Fame's obstreperous blastFrom ages on to future ages last,E'en to the trump of doom,--how poor the prizeWhose worth depends upon the changing skies!What time bestows and claims (the fleeting breathOf Fame) is but, at best, a second death--A death that none of mortal race can shun,That wastes the brood of time, and triumphs o'er the sun.