Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
All things are subject to decay and when fate summons, monarchs must obey.
I am devilishly afraid, that's certain; but ... I'll sing, that I may seem valiant.
Old age creeps on us ere we think it nigh.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.
Few know the use of life before 'tis past.