Music, The Mosaic Of The Air.

And Now, When I Have Summed Up All My Store, Thinking (so I Myself Deceive) So Rich A Chaplet Thence To Weave As Never Yet The King Of Glory Wore, Alas! I Find The Serpent Old, That, Twining In His Speckled Breast, About The Flowers Disguised Does Fold With Wreaths Of Fame And Interest.

Now Let Us Sport Us While We May; And Now, Like Amorous Birds Of Prey, Rather At Once Our Time Devour, Than Languish In His Slow-chapped Power.

So Much One Man Can Do That Does Both Act And Know.

Now Therefore, While The Youthful Hue Sits On Thy Skin Like Morning Dew, And While Thy Willing Soul Transpires At Every Pore With Instant Fires Now Let Us Sport Us While We May, And Now, Like Amorous Birds Of Prey, Rather At Once Our Time Devour Than Languish In His Slow-chapped Power. Let Us Roll Our Strength And All Our Sweetness Up Into One Ball And Tear Our Pleasures With Rough Strife Through The Iron Gates Of Life: Thus, While We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run.

Therefore The Love Which Us Doth Bind, But Fate So Enviously Debars, Is The Conjunction Of The Mind, And Opposition Of The Stars.