Optima quaeque dies miseris mortalibus aevi
Prima fugit; subeunt morbi tristisque senectus
Et labor, et durae rapit inclementia mortis.
In youth alone, unhappy mortals live; But, ah! the mighty bliss is fugitive: Discolour'd sickness, anxious labour, come, And age, and death's inexorable doom.Cf. J. B. Rose's translation: Ah, how fleetly speeds the little span Of lusty youth allowed to mortal man! Diseases grow, age comes, and joys decay, Till death demands his miserable prey.