Sonnet VIII. Translation.
Short is the time the oldest Being lives, Nor has Longevity one hour to waste; Life's duties are proportion'd to the haste With which it fleets away; - each day receives Its task, that if neglected, surely gives The morrow double toil. - Ye, who have pass'd In idle sport the days that fled so fast, Days, that nor Grief recalls, nor Care retrieves, At length be wise, and think, that of the part Remaining in that vital period given, How short the date, and at the prospect start, Ere to the extremest verge your steps be driv'n! Nor let a moment unimprov'd depart, But view it as the latest trust of Heav'n!
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"Short is the time the oldest Being lives,..."
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