A neighbour of the goddess of the deep
lived free of care on earnings from his sheep,shepherd
content with what he had, which to be sure
was modest, though it was at least secure.
He liked to watch the ships return to land,
unloading treasures on the strand.
They tempted him; at last he sold his flock,
and traded all the money on the main;
he lost it when the vessel struck a rock.
The trader went to tend the flocks again,
not as the owner that he used to be,
when sheep of his had grazed beside the sea;
not Corydon or Tircis as before,
just Peterkin and nothing more.
In time he had enough, from what he gained,
to buy some of the creatures clad in fleece.
And then, when winds blew gentle and restrained,
to let the ships unload their goods in peace,
this shepherd could be heard to say:
“You want our money, Madam Sea;
apply to someone else, I pray,
for on my faith, you’re getting none from me.”
This is no idle tale that I invent;
it is the truth that I have told,
which through experience is meant
to show you that a coin you hold
is worth a dozen that you hope to see;
that with their place and rank men must agree;
that thousands would do better to ignore
the counsels of ambition and the sea,
or else they suffer; one perhaps may thrive.
The oceans promise miracles and more,
but if you trust them, storms and thieves arrive.