28 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
28 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
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1645
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THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE. LIB. I
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by John Milton
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Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa, Rendred almost word for word
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without Rhyme according to the Latin Measure, as near as the
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Language will permit
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What slender Youth bedew'd with liquid odours
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Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Cave,
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Pyrrha for whom bind'st thou
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In wreaths thy golden Hair,
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Plain in thy neatness; O how oft shall he
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On Faith and changed Gods complain: and Seas
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Rough with black winds and storms
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Unwonted shall admire:
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Who now enjoyes thee credulous, all Gold,
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Who alwayes vacant, alwayes amiable
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Hopes thee; of flattering gales
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Unmindfull. Hapless they
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To whom thou untry'd seem'st fair. Me in my vow'd
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Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung
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My dank and dropping weeds
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To the stern God of Sea.
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-THE END-
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