Epodes 10 (Martin): Mala Soluta

Foul fall the day, when from the bay
The vessel puts to sea,
That carries Maevius away,
That wretch unsavoury!

Mind, Auster, with appalling roar
That you her timbers scourge;
Black Eurus, snap each rope and oar
With the o'ertoppling surge!

Rise, Aquilo, as when the far
High mountain-oaks ye rend;
When stern Orion sets, no star
Its friendly lustre lend!

Seethe, ocean, as when Pallas turn'd
Her wrath from blazing Troy
On impious Ajax' bark, and spurn'd
The victors in their joy!

I see them now, your wretched crew,
All toiling might and main,
And you, with blue and deathlike hue,
Imploring Jove in vain!

"Mercy, O mercy! Spare me, pray!"
With craven moan ye call,
When founders In the Ionian bay
Your bark before the squall:

But if your corpse a banquet forms
For sea-birds, I'll devote
Unto the powers that rule the storms
A lamb and liquorish goat.