Talk:Ship of State

Surplus

 * O ship! new billows sweep thee out Seaward. What wilt thou? hold the port, be stout!   Seest not thy mast  How rent by stiff south-western blast,Thy side, of rowers how forlorn? Thine hull, with groaning yards, with rigging torn,    Can ill sustain  The fierce and ever fiercer main;Thy gods, no more than sails entire, From whom yet once thy need might aid require.    O Pontic pine,  The first of woodland stock is thine,Yet race and name are but as dust. Not painted sterns give storm-tost seamen trust    Unless thou dare  To be the sport of storms, beware.Of old at best a weary weight, A yearning care and constant strain of late,    O shun the seas  That gird those glittering Cyclades.
 * Horace, Odes, I, xiv (tr. Gladstone)


 * This famous Ship of Englands Common Wealth.