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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
To the Ship of State
By Horace (65–8 B.C.)
 
From William Ewart Gladstone’s ‘Odes of Horace’

    O SHIP! new billows sweep thee out
Seaward. What wilt thou? Hold the port, be stout!
            Seest not thy mast
    How rent by stiff southwestern blast?
 
    Thy side, of rowers how forlorn!        5
Thine hull, with groaning yards, with rigging torn,
            Can ill sustain
    The fierce and ever fiercer main;
 
    Thy gods, no more than sails entire,
From whom, yet once, thy need might aid require.        10
            O Pontic pine,
    The first of woodland stock is thine,
 
    Yet race and name are but as dust.
Not painted sterns give storm-tost seamen trust
            Unless thou dare        15
    To be the sport of storms, beware!
 
    Of old at best a weary weight,
A yearning care and constant strain of late,
            O shun the seas
    That gird those glittering Cyclades.        20
 
 
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