 | Pierides |  |
67. Time. The Interpreter.
What serious students with their busied brainsCould ne're unlock; what Philosophick pains
Tri'd, and fell short of: what strong art ne're wist:
What was a theme too hard for th' Alchymist:
What mighty Merlin in his operation,
Fore sight, Prediction, and prognostication,
Could not unroll, Time has now detected:
Yet still he is dispes'd, and dis-respected:
There's no man crowns him with a wreath of praise,
Compos'd of Lawrel triumph, though his waies
Are rules of truth; while error boldly draws
Worlds of applause to her insatiate claws.
Infected Animals, how are ye blinded
With misty judgements? how intic't and winded
With strange belief? how nimble, and how prone
To build on rottenness? Rely upon
Deluding Motives? making declination
From the firm Basis of true revelation.
93
[illeg.] time, not Artists will declare our truths.
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