Since thou, oh Death, didst deal that blow with power,
Which brought to earth our stay 'midst fortune's stress,
Ne'er is the meadow clad with grass or flower.
ELICIO.
Ever this woe remembering, I repress
My bliss, if any bliss my feeling knows,
Myself I harrow with new bitterness.
LAUSO.
When is lost bliss recovered? Do not woes,
E'en though we seek them not, ever assail?
When amidst mortal strife find we repose?
THYRSIS.
When in the mortal fray did life prevail?
And when was Time, that swiftly flies away,
By harness stout withstood, or coat of mail?
DAMON.
Our life is but a dream, an idle play,
A vain enchantment that doth disappear,
What time it seemed the firmest in its day.
ELICIO.