Thus far in ships does my experience rise;
Yet bold I speak the wisdom of the skies;
Th’ inspiring Muses to my lips have given
The lore of song, and strains that breathe of heaven.
[125]When from the summer-tropic fifty days
Have roll’d, when summer’s time of toil decays:
Then is the season fair to spread the sail:
Nor then thy ship shall founder in the gale
And seas o’erwhelm the crew: unless the Power,
Who shakes the shores with waves, have will’d their mortal hour: