Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so; 'tis but what we in our autumn do.
His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.
Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.
All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.
Poets that lasting marble seek, Must come in Latin or in Greek.
The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove, On which the fabric of our world depends, One link dissolved, the whole creation ends.