20
MOONLIGHT.
Bating my nature, to thy care I owe;
I should be viler than the dog, that tears
The hand that fed him from his earliest youth,
If I forsook thee, or thy gen'rous cause:
The Seasons may pass on, and blanch my head,
And wither my shrunk cheek, and paint a map
Of woeful age upon my wrinkled brow;
But 'till the tomb outshuts me from the day,
And time disparts me from the things, that were,
Thy memory shall unimpair'd remain,
Boundless, as I must still be less, than thee:
While Spring shall for her blossoms be desir'd,
Or Summer for her sweets, while Autumn pale
With fruitage shall be crown'd, or Winter rule
In storms and tempests the dejected year,
So long, O my first Master, while I live,
Shall I forget not either thee or thine.
I should be viler than the dog, that tears
The hand that fed him from his earliest youth,
If I forsook thee, or thy gen'rous cause:
The Seasons may pass on, and blanch my head,
And wither my shrunk cheek, and paint a map
Of woeful age upon my wrinkled brow;
But 'till the tomb outshuts me from the day,
And time disparts me from the things, that were,
Thy memory shall unimpair'd remain,
Boundless, as I must still be less, than thee:
While Spring shall for her blossoms be desir'd,
Or Summer for her sweets, while Autumn pale
With fruitage shall be crown'd, or Winter rule
In storms and tempests the dejected year,
So long, O my first Master, while I live,
Shall I forget not either thee or thine.
