They laughed and they loved, and drank while they were able,
But now they are forced to knock under the table.
This marble, which formerly served them to drink on,
Now covers their bodies,—and sad thing to think on!—
That do what one can to moisten our clay,
’Twill one day be ashes, and moulder away.
On an ugly old Woman in the Dark. FROM MARTIAL.
Whilst in the dark on thy soft hand I hung,
And heard the tempting syren in thy tongue;
What flames, what darts, what anguish I endured!