Yon king’s to me like to my father’s picture,
Which tells me in that glory once he was–
Had princes sit like stars about his throne,
And he the sun for them to reverence.
None that beheld him but, like lesser lights,
Did vail their crowns to his supremacy;
Where now his son’s like a glowworm in the night,
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light.
Whereby I see that Time’s the king of men;
He’s both their parent and he is their grave,
And gives them what he will, not what they crave.