Res humanae in summo declinant
The gallante Shipp, that cutts the azure surge,
And hathe both tide, and wisshed windes, at will:
Her tackle sure, with shotte her foes to urge,
With Captaines boulde, and marriners of skill,
With streamers, flagges, topgallantes, pendantes brave,
When Seas do rage, is swallowed in the wave.
The snowe, that falles uppon the mountaines greate,
Though on the Alpes, which seeme the clowdes to reache.
Can not indure the force of Phoebus heate,
But wastes awaie, Experience doth us teache:
Which warneth all, on Fortunes wheele that clime
To beare in minde how they have but a time.