Horace Ode 1.5

What slender boy, soaked in liquid scents, presses you in much rose under the pleasant grotto, Pyrrha? For whom do you tie up your yellow hair, simple in its complexities? Alas! how many times will he weep for changed faith and gods and, unaccustomed, wonder at seas rough with black winds, who now uses you, believing (you) golden, who hopes (you will be) always available, always lovable, unknowing the deceitful breeze. Wretches, for whom you shine untried. A sacred wall with a votive tablet marks that I have hung up my soaking garments to the powerful god of the sea.