How fading are the joys we dote upon!

Like apparitions seen and gone.

But those which soonest take their flight

Are the most exquisite and strong,—

Like angels' visits, short and bright;

Mortality's too weak to bear them long.

John Norris (1657-1711): The Parting.

O fading honours of the dead!

O high ambition, lowly laid!

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 10.

Makes a swan-like end,

Fading in music.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I'm weary of conjectures,—this must end 'em.

Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,

My bane and antidote, are both before me:

This in a moment brings me to an end;

But this informs me I shall never die.

The soul, secured in her existence, smiles

At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself

Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;

But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,

Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.

Joseph Addison (1672-1719): Cato. Act v. Sc. 1.