XIX. Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion 's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger 's jaws, And burn the long- liv'd phoenix, in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, And do whate'er thou wilt, swift- footed Time, To the wide world and all her fading sweets; But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: O! carve not with thy hours my love 's fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; Him in thy course untainted do allow For beauty 's pattern to succeeding men. Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young.