The tempest, nor with rain perpetual teems!You too be wise, my Plancus: life's worst cloudWill melt in air, by mellow wine allay'd,Dwell you in camps, with glittering banners proud,Or 'neath your Tibur's canopy of shade.When Teucer fled before his father's frownFrom Salamis, they say his temples deepHe dipp'd in wine, then wreath'd with poplar crown,And bade his comrades lay their grief to sleep:“Where Fortune bears us, than my sire more kind,There let us go, my own, my gallant crew.'Tis Teucer leads, 'tis Teucer breathes the wind;No more despair; Apollo's word is true.Another Salamis in kindlier airShall yet arise. Hearts, that have borne with meWorse buffets! drown today in wine your care;To-morrow we recross the wide, wide sea!”