To A Ship. - Translations From Horace.
OD. i. 14. Yet on fresh billows seaward wilt thou ride, O ship? What dost thou? Seek a hav'n, and there Rest thee: for lo! thy side Is oarless all and bare, And the swift south-west wind hath maimed thy mast, And thy yards creak, and, every cable lost, Yield must thy keel at last On pitiless sea-waves tossed Too rudely. Goodly canvas is not thine, Nor gods, to hear thee now, when need is sorest:- Though thou - a Pontic pine, Child of a stately forest, - Boastest high name and empty pedigree, Pale seamen little trust the gaudy sail: Stay, unless doomed to be The plaything of the gale. Flee - what of late sore burden was to me, Now a sad memory and a bitter pain, - Those shining Cyclads flee That stud the far-off main.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"OD. i. 14...."
Exploring the themes of classic, Charles Stuart Calverley delivers a powerful performance in "To A Ship. - Translations From Horace."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...