Classic Poem

ODE V.— PYRRHA'S INCONSTANCY .

Pyrrha, who now, mayhap,
Pours on thy perfumed lap,
With rosy wreath, fair youth, his fond addresses!
Within thy charming grot,
For whom, in gay love-knot,
Playfully dost thou bind thy yellow tresses?

So simple in thy neatness!
Alas! that so much sweetness
Should prelude prove to disillusion painful!
He shall bewail too late
His sadly altered fate,
Chilled by thy mien, repellent and disdainful,

Who now, to fondness prone,
Deeming thee all his own,
Revels in golden dreams of favours boundless
So bright thy beauty glows.
Still fascinating those
Who've yet to learn all trust in thee is groundless.

I the false light forswear,
A shipwreck'd marmer,
Who hangs the painted story of his suffering
Aloft o'er Neptune's shrine;
There shall I hang up mine,
And of my dripping robes the votive offering!