“So does he strive to rescue your shade from the pyre and wages a mighty contest with Death, wearying the efforts of artists and seeking to love you in every material. But beauty created by toil of cunning hand is mortal.”
Sic auferre rogis umbram conatur et ingens
certamen cum Morte gerit, curasque fatigat
artificum inque omni te quaerit amare metallo.
Sed mortalis honos, agilis quem dextra laborat.
i, line 7
Silvae, Book V