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Rh To this fell Carle gay led, And in his dreary purlieus left the Knight. From the dire Cave fain would the Knight have fled, And fain recalld the treachrous Nymphe from flight: But now the late Obtruder shuns his sight, And dearly must be wooed: hard by the den, Where listless Bacchus had his tents ypight, A transient visit sometimes would he gain, While Wine and merry Song beguild his inward pain.

Yet, ever as he reard his slombering head, The ghastly tyrant at his couch stood near; And ay with ruthless clamour gan upbraid, And words that would his very heartstrings tear: See now, he sayes, where setts thy vain career; Approching elde now wings its cheerlesse way, Thy fruitlesse Autumn gins to blanch thy heare, And aged Winter asks from Youth its stay; But thine comes poore of joy, comes with unhonourd gray.