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!”