Horace,
Carmina 1.5
Quis multā gracilis tē puer in rosā
perfūsus liquidīs urget odōribus
grātō, Pyrrha, sub antrō?
cui flāvam religās comam,
simplex munditiīs? heu quotiens fidem
mūtātōsque deōs flēbit et aspera
nigrīs aequora ventīs
ēmīrābitur insolens,
quī nunc tē fruitur crēdulus aureā,
quī semper vacuam, semper amābilem
spērat, nescius aurae
fallācis. miserī, quibus
intemptāta nitēs. mē tabulā sacer
vōtīvā pariēs indicat ūvida
suspendisse potentī
vestīmenta maris deō.
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.
Trans. John Milton
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