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.