Odes 1.14 (Creech): O Navis, Referent

ANd shall the raging Waves again
Bear Thee back into the Main!
Oh what dost do! put close to shore,
And never trust the Ocean more:
Thy Oars are gon, and Southern blasts
Have rent thy Sails, and torn thy Masts;
Nor without tackling can'st thou brave
The violent fury of the Wave:
Thy Stern is gone, thy Gods are lost,
And thou hast none to hear thy cry,
When thou on dangerous Shelves art tost,
When Billows rage, and Winds are high:
Thô thou art built of noble Wood,
And gay as ever cut the Flood;
Alas! 'tis but an empty Name,
Nor will the Seas regard thy Fame:
What fearful Seaman dares rely
On Gilded Sterns when Winds are high?
Vain show, not fit to sail but please,
An easie prev to angry Seas:
Tho often, Thou hast safely past,
Thou ow'st a sport to Winds at last:
Oh lately Thou my grief and fear,
And now my fresh and present Care,
Take heed, and fly the flattering Seas
Between the shining Cyclades.