Classic Poem

I.

S OFT , southern Gale, whose whisp'ring Breath
Skims lightly o'er the curling Wave,
O whither, in this hapless Bark,
Wilt thou convey a weeping Slave?

II.

To Doria 's wood-invested Land,
Or Phthia 's Pastures shall I go,
Where Father of Field-fat'ning Floods
Apidanus shall hear my Woe?

III.

Or sent to Athens , shall I weave
In Tissue Robes the Queen of War;
Her polish'd Helm, and Gorgon-shield,
Her foaming Steeds, and glitt'ring Cat?

IV.

Or haply in the Piece shall stand
The Titan 's Heav'n-defying Crew,
Whom Jove , his Prowess to display,
With angry livid Lightnings slew.

V.

O my lost Children, Parents, Friends!
O Ilion smoking on the Plains!
O my poor Self, whom foreign Hands
Shall bind in curst, disgraceful Chains!