perfusus liquidis urget odoribus
grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
cui flavam religas comam,
simplex munditiis? heu quotiens fidem
mutatosque deos flebit et aspera
nigris aequora ventis
emirabitur insolens,
qui nunc te fruitur credulus 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.
Who woos you on a bed of roses?
What slim boy bathed in perfumes, Pyrrha,
In a delightful cave? For whom
Do you bind up your flaxen hair,
Artfully artless? Ah, how often
Will he bewail the faithless gods
And marvel at the seas all harsh
With black winds, unaccustomed sight;
The boy who now so trustingly
Enjoys you, golden, hopes you will
Be ever clear and lovable,
Pays no mind to the fickle breeze!
Unhappy those for whom you shine
Unproved! The sacred wall attests:
A shipwrecked sailor, I hung up
My sodden clothes for the sea-god.
