Classic Poem

P YRRHA , what ardent stripling now,
In one of thy embowered retreats,
Would press thee to indulge his vow
Amidst a world of flow'rs and sweets?
For whom are bound thy tresses bright
With unconcern so exquisite?

Alas, how oft shall he bewail
His fickle stars and faithless gale,
And stare with unaccustomed eyes,
When the black winds and waters rise,

Though now the sunshine hour beguiles
His bark along thy golden smiles,
Trusting to see thee, for his play,
For ever keep smooth holiday!

Poor dazzled fools, who bask beside thee!
And trust because they never tried thee!
For me, and for my dangers past,
The grateful picture hangs at last
Within the mighty Neptune's fane,
Who snatched me, dripping, from the main.