Daily National Intelligencer

ON TIME.

Addressed to a Lady--By Selleck Osborne.

Mov'd by a strange, mysterious power,
That hastes along the rapid hour,
I touch the deep-ton'd string;
Even now I saw his wither'd face,
Beneath yon tower's mouldering base,
Where mossy vestments cling.

Dark roll'd his cheerless eye around,
Severely his grisly visage frown'd,
No locks his head array'd;
He grasp'd a hero's antique bust--
The marble crumbled into dust.
And sunk amidst the shade!

Malignant triumph fill'd his eyes;
"See, hapless mortals, see," he cries,
"How vain your idle schemes,
"Beneath my grasp, the fairest form
"Dissolves and mingles with the worm;
"Thus vanish mortal dreams.

"The works of God and man I spoil
"The noblest proofs of human toil
"I treat as childish toys:
"I crush the noble and the brave;
"Beauty I mar, and in the grave
"I bury human joys."

"Hold! ruthless phantom--hold!" I cried;
If thou canst mock the dreams of pride
And meaner hopes devour--
Virtue beyond thy reach shall bloom.
When other charms sink to the tomb:
She scorns thy envious power.

On frosty wings the demon fled,
Howling, as o'er the wall he sped,
"Another year is gone!"
The ruin'd spire, the crumbling tower.
Nodding, obey'd his artful power,
As TIME flew swiftly on.

Since beauty, then, to Time must bow,
And age deform the fairest brow,
Let brighter charms be yours:
The female mind, embalm'd in truth,
Shall bloom in everlasting youth,
While Time himself endures.