XXV.

'Yet such the destiny of all on earth: 'So flourishes and fades majestic man. 'Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth, 'And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan. 'O smile, ye heavens, serene; ye mildews wan, 'Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime, 'Nor lessen of his life the little span. 'Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of Time, 'Old-age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.