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Lettered inside image: "26 | Not on those terms was time, heaven's stranger, sent | On his important embassy to man. | LORENZO! no: on the long-destined hour, | From everlasting ages growing ripe, | That memorable hour of wondrous birth, | When the DREAD SIRE, on emanation bent, | And big with nature, rising in his might, | Call'd forth creation, for then time was born, | By godhead streaming through a thousand worlds; | Not on those terms, from the great days of heaven, | From old eternity's mysterious orb, | Was time cut off, and cast beneath the skies; | The skies, which watch him in his new abode, | *Measuring his motions by revolving spheres; | That horologe machinery divine: | Hours, days, and months, and years, his children play, | Like numerous wings, around him, as he flies; | Or rather, as unequal plumes they shape | His ample pinions, swift as darted flame, | To gain his goal, to reach his ancient rest, | And join anew eternity his sire; | In his immutability to nest, | When worlds, that count his circles now, unhinged, | Fate the loud signal sounding, headlong rush | To timeless night and chaos, whence they rose. | Why spur the speedy? why with levities | New-wing thy short, short day's too rapid flight? | Know'st thou, or what thou dost, or what is done? | Man flies from time, and time from man, too soon in sad divorce this double flight must end;"