Ovid

No species remains constant: that great renovator of matter

Nature, endlessly fashions new forms from old: there’s nothing

in the whole universe that perishes, believe me; rather

it renews and varies its substance. What we describe as birth

is no more than incipient change from a prior state, while dying

is merely to quit it. Though the parts may be transported

hither and thither, the sum of all matter is constant.

What, however, is my fault? Unless to have played can be called a fault, unless it can be called a fault to have loved.

A creature of a more exalted kind

Was wanting yet, and then was Man designed;

Conscious of thought, of more capacious breast,

For empire formed, and fit to rule the rest.

He is beautiful even to enemy eyes.

Water belongs to us all. Nature did not make the sun one person's property, nor air, nor water, cool and clear.

O mortals, from your fellows' blood abstain,

Nor taint your bodies with a food profane:

While corn, and pulse by Nature are bestow'd,

And planted orchards bend their willing load;

While labour'd gardens wholesom herbs produce,

And teeming vines afford their gen'rous juice;

Nor tardier fruits of cruder kind are lost,

But tam'd with fire, or mellow'd by the frost;

While kine to pails distended udders bring,

And bees their hony redolent of Spring;

While Earth not only can your needs supply,

But, lavish of her store, provides for luxury;

A guiltless feast administers with ease,

And without blood is prodigal to please.

Pointing to a pile of dust, that had collected, I foolishly begged to have as many anniversaries of my birth, as were represented by the dust. But I forgot to ask that the years should be accompanied by youth.

Plenty has made me poor.

Thus all things are but altered, nothing dies.

I see better things, and approve, but I follow worse.

Thus, while the mute creation downward bend

Their sight, and to their earthly mother tend,

Man looks aloft, and with erected eyes

Beholds his own hereditary skies.

The mind, conscious of rectitude, laughed to scorn the falsehood of report.