The Fifth Ode of Horacle

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