Horace Ode 4.7

Snows have scattered, now grasses return to the plains and leaves to the trees; earth changes its lot and the swelling rivers neglect their banks; the naked Grace with the Nymphs and her twin sisters dare to lead the choral dances. Lest you hope for eternal things, the year and the hour which seizes the nourishing day warns. Winters soften with the west winds, summer, also about to die, crushes spring, at the same time fruit-bearing autumn pours out crops, and soon stagnant winter returns. Yet swift moons repair celestial losses; we are dust and shadow when we have descended to where pious Aeneas, to where rich Tullus and Ancus (went). Who knows whether gods above might add tomorrow’s moments to today’s total? All which you give to a friendly mind will flee the greedy hands of an heir. When once you die and Minos has made his glittering judgments concerning you, Torquatus, no family, no eloquence, no piety will restore you; for neither does Diana free chaste Hippolytus from the infernal shades nor does Theseus prevail to break Lethean chains for his dear Pirithous.