134. Crutches
Thou see’st me, Lucia, this year droop;Three zodiacs fill’d more, I shall stoop;Let crutches then provided beTo shore up my debility:Then, while thou laugh’st, I’ll sighing cry,A ruin underpropt am I:Don will I then my beadsman’s gown;And when so feeble I am grownAs my weak shoulders cannot bearThe burden of a grasshopper;Yet with the bench of aged sires,When I and they keep termly fires,With my weak voice I’ll sing, or saySome odes I made of Lucia;—Then will I heave my wither’d handTo Jove the mighty, for to standThy faithful friend, and to pour downUpon thee many a benison.