Inter ludere virgines,
Et stellis nebulam spargere candidis.
Non siquid Pholoen satis,
Et te, Chlori, decet.
Hor. Lib. iii. Ode xv. 4.
Now near to death that comes but slow,
Now thou art stepping down below;
Sport not amongst the blooming maids,
But think on ghosts and empty shades:
What suits with Pholoe in her bloom,