| William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909. | | | | A Retrospect | | By Aaron Hill (1685–1750) |
| | | TWENTY lost years have stolen their hours away, | |
| Since in this inn, e’en in this room I lay. | |
| How chang’d! what then was rapture, fire, and air, | |
| Seems now sad silence all and blank despair. | |
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| Is it that youth paints every view too bright, | 5 |
| And, life advancing, fancy fades her light! | |
| Ah! no,—nor yet is day so far declin’d, | |
| Nor can time’s creeping coldness reach the mind. | |
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| ’Tis that I miss th’ inspirer of that youth; | |
| Her, whose soft smile was love, whose soul was truth; | 10 |
| Death snatch’d my joys, cutting off her share, | |
| But left her griefs to multiply my care. | |
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| Pensive and cold this room in each chang’d part, | |
| I view, and shock’d from ev’ry object start; | |
| There hung the watch that, beating hours from day, | 15 |
| Told its sweet owner’s lessening life away. | |
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| There her dear diamond taught the sash my name, | |
| ’Tis gone! frail image of love, life, and fame; | |
| That glass she dress’d at, keeps her form no more, | |
| Not one dear footstep tunes th’ unconscious floor. | 20 |
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| Oh life! deceitful lure of lost desires! | |
| How short thy period, yet how fierce thy fires! | |
| Scarce can a passion start, we change so fast, | |
| Ere new lights strike us, and the old are past. | |
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| Schemes following schemes, so long life’s taste explore, | 25 |
| That ere we learn to live, we live no more. | |
| Who then can think, yet sigh to part with breath, | |
| Or shun the healing hand of friendly death? | | | | |
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