Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who, always vacant, always amiable
Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful! Hapless they
To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me in my vowed
Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of Sea.
But let the attempt be made to avoid the ponderous movement and excessive sobriety of Milton, and to communicate the Horatian airiness, and there is a loss in conciseness and reserve:
What scented youth now pays you court,