Текст оригинала на английском языке
Addressed to a lady on her 84th birth-day. TIME sooth, since Time has been, has still sustain'd The varied murmurs of each wayward mood, Of tedious pace, of hasty flight arraign'd, His loss lamented and his influence woo'd. How is it, favour'd Lady, that on thee This blighting power no rugged mark has shed? But traces still, with fairest courtesy, His gentle progress o'er thy silver'd head? No vain regrets to thy remembrance cling, No ill-spent hours thy tranquil mind appal, Nor would'st thou wish to check his rapid wing, Or transient joys of scenes long past recal. Then tell the gay who bask in youthful prime, Time honours thee, for thou hast honoured Time.
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