John Milton — 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