John Milton

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The Fifth Ode of Horace

What slender youth bedewed with liquid odors,
Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave Pyrrha?
For whom bindst 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 the Sea.