When from this perishable clay
The flitting breath has sped away;
Does then the soul that dissolution share
And vanish into elemental air?380
Whate'er the morning sunbeam knows,
Whate'er his setting rays disclose;
Whate'er is bathed by Ocean wide,
In ebbing or in flowing tide:
Time all shall snatch with hungry greed,
With mythic Pegasean speed.385