1 Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
2 To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
3 Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
4 Dark'ning thy power to lend base subjects light?
5 Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
6 In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
7 Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem,
8 And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
9 Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey,
10 If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
11 If any, be a satire to decay,
12 And make Time's spoils despised every where.
13 Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
14 So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife