The snows have fled, and now the growing grass Reclothes the fields, the foliage the trees; The earth renews her youth, and dwindling pass The streams between their borders to the seas. A Grace with sister Nymphs unites, and these Lead on the dance, unzoned, without a fear. Wisdom with Nature in this word agrees— The admonition of the changing year— On immortality man may not reckon here. The cold is tempered by the soft west wind, Spring yields to Summer in her turn to die, Fruit-ladened Autumn's treasures are consigned To Winter, whose chilled blood moves sluggishly; The seasons' waste the seasons remedy: But we, once dead, are dust and shade for aye, Like good Œneas, Tullus royally Begot and rich, and Ancus in his day Renowned, but now their bones lie moldering in decay. Who now can know if the Superior Powers, That mortal destinies arrange before, Have with to-day's conjoined to-morrow's hours, As with these days the days that are no more? Thy utmost hoard thou thinkest to outpour With unaffected kindness in thy heart; The greedy heir, who eyes the expected store, Before his time must from these scenes depart, And death alone will soothe his disappointment's smart. Thou, too, Torquatus, when cut off at last, What time stern Minos issues his decree, Wilt not escape thy fate, albeit thou hast Descent, and eloquence, and piety; Since not Diana even may set free The pure Hippolytus with earnest prayer; Nor Theseus' efforts may rewarded be To break the chains of Lethe's prison, where Lies loved Pirithous, forlorn in his despair. |