TO THE ROMAN STATE.
Horace
O ship, new waves will bear you back again to sea. O what are you doing?
Bravely seize the port. Do you not perceive, that your sides are
destitute of oars, and your mast wounded by the violent south wind, and
your main-yards groan, and your keel can scarcely support the
impetuosity of the waves without the help of cordage? You have not
entire sails; nor gods, whom you may again invoke, pressed with
distress: notwithstanding you are made of the pines of Pontus, and as
the daughter of an illustrious wood, boast your race, and a fame now of
no service to you. The timorous sailor has no dependence on a painted
stern. Look to yourself, unless you are destined to be the sport of the
winds. O thou, so lately my trouble and fatigue, but now an object of
tenderness and solicitude, mayest thou escape those dangerous seas which
flow among the shining Cyclades.
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