1645
                        THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE. LIB. I
                                 by John Milton

  Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa, Rendred almost word for word
without Rhyme according to the Latin Measure, as near as the
Language will permit

          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.

                        -THE END-
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