THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE. LIB. I

Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa, Rendred almost word for word without Rhyme according to the Latin Measure, as near as the Language will permit

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.