Snows scatter. Gra** reclaims the field, and trees
Regrow the greenery they'd shed.
The world is shifting shape. The shrinking river
Rolls in the riverbed.
The Nymphs and Graces, taking off their shame,
Dance naked on the wakened gra**,
The hours devour the livening day to warn you:
You like all this shall pa**.
The Zephyrs curb the cold to bring the Spring
The sudden Summer overthrows
Which falls to fruitful Fall that spills its yield
To fields the Winter slows.
Though moon on moon redeem the waste of seasons,
When we go d**hward and are laid
Under with good Aeneas and rich Tullus,
We go as ash and shade.
Who knows, Torquatus, if the gods shall add
More morrows to this borrowed day?
Indulge your heart, for what your heart receives
No heir shall hoard away.
No, friend, when you go dead to take your place
By writ of Minos the august,
Your noble birth and virtues have no power
To shape you back from dust.
Even Diana had to let her chaste
Hippolytus fall dark and under
Where Theseus had to leave his friend in chains
Not even he could sunder.