Classic Poem

What graceful youth, on beds of roses laid,
Courts thee, O Pyrrha, in the pleasant shade
Of some rude cave, where gadding eglantine
The boughs with honeysuckle doth entwine?
For whom with simple neatness dost thou bind
Thy golden ringlets waving to the wind?
Alas! how oft with tears shall he deplore
Thy vows of faith — the Gods his friends no more!
And shall behold with terror and surprise
The ocean swell and the black tempest rise
Who now enjoys thy smiles and hopes to find
That thou art ever constant, ever kind.
Ignorant alas! of the deceitful gale
Causing him soon his folly to bewail.
How wretched they, caught in thy beauty's snare,
Who of thy faithlessness are unaware!
But just escaped from shipwreck on that sea
My dripping garments I have vowed to thee,
Tridented Neptune, pow'rful Ocean's God,
Who rul'st the roaring billows with thy rod.