In the great City rear'd, my fancy rude By natural Forms unnurs'd and unsubdued An Alien from the Rivers and the Fields And all the Charms, that Hill or Woodland yields, It was the pride and passion of my Youth T' impersonate and color moral Truth: Rare Allegories in those Days I spun, That oft had mystic senses oft'ner none. Of all Resemblances however faint, So dear a Lover was I, that with quaint Figures fantastically grouped I made, Of commonest Thoughts a moving Masquerade. 'Twas then I fram'd this obscure uncouth Rhyme, A sort of Emblem 'tis of Hope and Time. In ancient Days, but when I have not read, Nor know I, where -- but 'twas some elfish Place -- Their pennons, ostrich-like for Sails outspread, Two winged Children run an endless Race -- A Sister and a Brother! But Hope outruns the other -- Yet ever flies she with reverted Face, And looks and listens for the Boy behind: Time is his Name -- and he, alas! is blind, With regular Step o'er rough and smooth he passed, And knows not whether he is first or last. |