---

Samuel Johnson - Horace: Book IV. Ode 7
Work rating: Low

The snow dissolv`d, no more is seen;
The fields and woods, behold! are green;
The changing year renews the plain,
The rivers know their banks again;
The sprightly nymph and naked grace
The mazy dance together trace.
The changing year`s successive plan
Proclaims mortality to man.
Rough winter`s blasts to spring give way,
Spring yields to summer`s sovereign ray;
Then summer sinks in autumn`s reign,
And winter chills the world again:
Her losses soon the moon supplies,
But wretched man, when once he lies
Where Priam and his sons are laid,
Is nought but ashes and a shade.
Who knows if Jove, who counts our score,
Will toss us in a morning more?
What with your friend you nobly share,
At least, you rescue from your heir.
Not you, Torquatus, boast of Rome,
When Minos once has fix`d your doom,
Or eloquence, or splendid birth,
Or virtue, shall restore to earth.
Hippolytus, unjustly slain,
Diana calls to life in vain; 
Nor can the might of Theseus rend
The chains of hell, that hold his friend.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.