Beneath the sun’s rays our shadow is our comrade;
When clouds obscure the sun our shadow flees.
So Fortune’s smiles the fickle crowd pursues,
But swift is gone whenever she veils her face.
Ovid
Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso) (43 B.C.–A.D. 17/18), Roman poet. Tristia, 1.9. 11-14.