So might I save thee flung by spuming billows of ocean,
Shipwreckt, rescuing life snatcht from the threshold of death;
5
Eke neither Venus the Holy to rest in slumber's refreshment
Grants thee her grace on couch lying deserted and lone,
Nor can the Muses avail with dulcet song of old writers
Ever delight thy mind sleepless in anxious care;
Grateful be this to my thought since thus thy friend I'm entitled,
10
Hence of me seekest thou gifts Muses and Venus can give: