Classic Poem

Under an evil star she slips,
Accompanied by my hate;
She reels, unluckiest of ships,
With him, her stinking freight.

Do not forget, O southwest wind,
To lash her sides with waves,
Till Maevius sees, before, behind,
Nothing but yawning graves.

Litter the sea, till on it lie
These oars and tattered ropes;
And make the breakers tower as high
As mountains on his hopes.

Let not one friendly star appear,
Let even days be dark;
So that he'll fare as calm and clear
— As Ajax' impious bark!

Ah, how the mariners will sweat!
How Maevius will pale!
As weeping, woman-like and wet,
He prays to stop the gale.

I too shall pray! And if a rock
Receive his mangled form,
The choicest ewe-lamb of the flock
I'll offer to the storm.