Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who always vacant, always amiable,
Hopes thee; of flattering gales
Unmindful? Hapless they
To whom thou untry’d seem’st fair. Me in my vow’d
Picture the sacred wall declares t’have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of sea.
No. III
The beginning of the VIIIth Book of the Iliad