The Horologe by Thomas Doubleday

Once, by the dusk light of an ancient hall,
I saw a Horologe. Its minutes fell
Upon the roused ear, with a drowsy knell
That he who passed attended to the call.
I looked: and lo! five Antics over all.
One moved, and four were motionless. The one
Was scythed and bald-head Time; and he mowed on,
Sweep after sweep–and each a minute’s fall,
–The four were kings. Sceptres they bore and globes
And ermined crowns. Before that old man dim
They stood, but not in joy. At sight of Time
They had stiffen’d into statues in their robes;
Fear-petrified. Let no man envy him
Who smiles at that grave Homily sublime!

From: Watts, Alaric A., The Literary Souvenir; or, Cabinet of Poetry and Romance, 1828, Longman, Rees, Orme, Browne, & Green: London, p. 219.
(http://books.google.com.au/books?id=tiEYAQAAIAAJ)

Date: 1828

By: Thomas Doubleday (1790-1870)

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