Which svelte young dreamboat, Pyrrha, on a bed of roses
Down in your grotto, dripping with colognes, takes hold
……..Of you and pleasantly reposes?
……..For whom have you tied back your gold
Locks, cosmopolitanly plain? Oh, but he’ll cry
At how you and the gods alter your loyalties,
……..And, thunderstruck, marveling, eye
……..The dark storms ruffling restless seas,
Who savors unsuspectingly your sun-gilt hair
Now, hoping always you will always love him true,
……..Not knowing how soft gusts of air
……..Can mask a squall. They’re sunk, those who,
Poor lubbers, think you’re fair. For me: on the façade
Of his shrine proof hangs that I gave—a votive scroll—
……..My sopping slicker to the god
……..Who holds the seas in his control.
Horace: Ode i.5
Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa
perfusus liquidis urget odoribus
…grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
……..Cui flavam religas comam
simplex munditiis? Heu quotiens fidem
mutatosque deos felbit et aspera
…nigris aequora ventis
……..emirabitur insolens,
qui nunc te fruitur credulous aurea,
qui semper vacuam, semper amabilem
…sperat, nescius aurae
……..fallacis! Miseri, quibus
intemptata nites! Me tabula sacer
votiva paries indicat uvida
…suspendisse potenti
……..vestimenta maris deo.