The Fifth Ode of Horace

WHAT slender Youth bedew'd with liquid odours
Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Cave
Pyrrha for whom bind'st thou
In wreaths thy golden Hair
Plain in thy neatness; O how oft shall he
On Faith and changed Gods complain: and Seas
Rough with black winds and storms
Unwonted shall admire:
Who now enjoyes thee credulous, all Gold
Who alwayes vacant, alwayes amiable

Hopes thee; of flattering gales
Unmindfull. Hapless they
To whom thou untry'd seem'st fair. Me in my vow'd
Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of Sea