The careful shipman now fears angry gusts,
And with the waters sees death near him thrusts.
But if that Triton toss the troubled flood,
In all thy face will be no crimson blood.
Then wilt thou Leda's noble twin-stars pray,
And, he is happy whom the earth holds, say.30
It is more safe to sleep, to read a book,
The Thracian harp with cunning to have strook.
But if my words with wingèd storm hence slip,
Yet, Galatea, favour thou her ship.