Time Will Run Back And Fetch The

The Redundant Locks, Robustious To No Purpose, Clustering Down--vast Monument Of Strength.

And Sing To Those That Hold The Vital Shears; And Turn The Adamantine Spindle Round, On Which The Fate Of Gods And Men Is Wound.

So Scented The Grim Feature, And Upturn'd His Nostril Wide Into The Murky Air, Sagacious Of His Quarry From So Far.

Believe And Be Confirmed.

And Join With Thee Calm Peace And Quiet, Spare Fast, That Oft With Gods Doth Diet.