Classic Poem

The snows in flight are scattered; grass returns
To fields; on trees new leaflets grow.
Change passes o'er the land; the dwindling burns
Are fain within their banks to flow.

The Grace forth ventures nude in dance to lead
Nymphs and her sister twins. The year,
And hours that steal day from us, not to feed
On boundless hopes give warning clear.

Mild zephyrs thaw the cold. Soon, trampling on
Spring, summer comes, itself to die
When autumn has poured out its fruits; anon
Dull winter time again draws nigh.

Moons quickly mend heaven's losses. We, when sent
There whither our great ancestor,
Aeneas, wealthy Tullus, Ancus, went,
But dust and shadow are—no more.

Who knows if to his sum of life to-day
The gods a morrow mean to add?
Your heir his greedy hands on nought will lay
You spend to make your own heart glad.

When you are dead, and from high throne of state
Minos has passed his doom on you,
Birth, piety, wit, will not prevail with fate
Your life, Torquatus, to renew.

For Dian from the gloom of hell refrains
The chaste Hippolytus to take;
And Theseus cannot the Lethean chains
That bind his dear Pirithous break.