Book III, Epigram 67 (Ker)

Slack are ye, O youths, and no watermen, more sluggish than Vaternus and Hasina, along whose slow shallows ye float, and dip lazy oars in time to the boatswain's call. Already, while Phaethon slopes downwards, Aethon sweats, and the day has burst in flame, and the noontide hour unyokes weary steeds. But you, straying along waves so placid, play in idleness on a safe keel. Not tars do I hold you, but tarriers.