Cæsar, the fortunate and forceful, bled

"Cæsar, the fortunate and forceful, bled; Pity and warning know it not—a wreath This of his glory, for there is a death Even to the grave that sepulchres the dead. Dies life, and like life, dies, and soon is fled The rich and sumptuous funeral; time flies, And, in his unseen circuit, stills the cries, Shouts, and huzzas, that fame delights to spread. The sun and moon wind night and day the web Of the world's life robust, and dost thou weep The warning which age sends thee? all things ebb! Auroras are but smiling illnesses, Delight the lemon of our health, nor less Our sextons the sure hours that seem to creep."