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Lettered inside image: "33 | Erewhile high-flush'd with insolence and wine? | *Like that, the dial speaks; and points to thee, | LORENZO! loth to break thy banquet up. | 'O man, thy kingdom is departing from thee; | 'And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade'. | Its silent language such; nor need'st thou call | Thy magi, to decypher what it means: | Know, like the Median, fate is in thy walls: | Dost ask, how? whence? Belshazzar-like, amazed? | Man's make encloses the sure seeds of death; | Life feeds the murderer: ingrate! he thrives | On her own meal, and then his nurse devours. | But here, LORENZO, the delusion lies; | That solar shadow, as it measures life, | It life resembles too: life speeds away | From point to point, though seeming to stand still: | The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth, | Too subtle is the movement to be seen; | Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. | Warnings point out our danger; gnomons, time: | As these are useless when the sun is set; | So those, but when more glorious reason shines: | Reason should judge in all; in reason's eye, | That sedentary shadow travels hard: | But such our gravitation to the wrong, | So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, | 'Tis later with the wise, than he's aware; | A Wilmington goes slower than the sun; | And all mankind mistake their time of day; | Even age itself: fresh hopes are hourly sown"; lower right: "inv & sc | WB"; lower left: "Pubd. June 27th. 1796, by R. Edwards, No. 142 New Bond Street."