Sic aetas fugit
To M. JAMES JONSON.
Two horses free, a thirde doe swiftlie chace,
The one, is white, the other, blacke of hewe:
None, bridles have for to restraine their pace,
And thus, they bothe, the other still pursue:
And, never cease continuall course to make,
Untill at lengthe, the first, they overtake.
This formost horse, that ronnes so fast awaye,
It is our time; while heere, our race wee ronne:
The blacke, and white, presenteth nighte, and daye:
Who after hast, untill the goale bee wonne;
And leave us not, but followe from our birthe,
Untill wee yeelde, and turne againe to earthe.