Femina, cosa mobil per natura, Più che fraschetta al vento, e più che cima Di pieghevole spica. - Torquato Tasso

Great Carthage low in ashes cold doth lie,
Her ruins poor the herbs in height scant pass,
So cities fall, so perish kingdoms high,
Their pride and pomp lies hid in sand and grass:
Then why should mortal man repine to die,
Whose life, is air; breath, wind; and body, glass?

I'll know his inmost aims and (doubt me not)
extract the guarded mysteries of his mind.

Difesa miglior, ch'usbergo e scudo,
È la santa innocenza al petto ignudo.