But my fate on the swiftly turning wheel of God
Goes whirling round forever and ever changes shape,
Just as the moon's appearance for two kindly nights
Could never be identical and show no change,
But out of darkness first she comes forth young and new,
With face that ever grows more beautiful and full,
And when she reaches largest and most generous phase,
Again she vanisheth away and comes to naught.
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[2]
The Menelaüs of Sophocles1 applies this simile to his own fortunes:—
1 Nauck, Trag. Graec. Frag.2 p. 315.
Plutarch. Plutarch's Lives. with an English Translation by. Bernadotte Perrin. Cambridge, MA. Harvard University Press. London. William Heinemann Ltd. 1920. 9.
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