by: Michael Drayton (1563-1631)

      OU brave heroic minds
      Worthy your country's name,
      That honour still pursue;
      Go and subdue!
      Whilst loitering hinds
      Lurk here at home with shame.
      Britons, you stay too long:
      Quickly aboard bestow you,
      And with a merry gale
      Swell your stretch'd sail
      With vows as strong
      As the winds that blow you.
      Your course securely steer,
      West and by south forth keep!
      Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals
      When Eolus scowls
      You need not fear;
      So absolute the deep.
      And cheerfully at sea
      Success you still entice
      To get the pearl and gold,
      And ours to hold
      Earth's only paradise.
      Where nature hath in store
      Fowl, venison, and fish,
      And the fruitfull'st soil
      Without your toil
      Three harvests more,
      All greater than your wish.
      And the ambitious vine
      Crowns with his purple mass
      The cedar reaching high
      To kiss the sky,
      The cypress, pine,
      And useful sassafras.
      To whom the Golden Age
      Still nature's laws doth give,
      No other cares attend,
      But them to defend
      From winter's rage,
      That long there doth not live.
      When as the luscious smell
      Of that delicious land
      Above the sea that flows
      The clear wind throws,
      Your hearts to swell
      Approaching the dear strand;
      In kenning of the shore
      (Thanks to God first given)
      O you the happiest men,
      Be frolic then!
      Let cannons roar,
      Frighting the wide heaven.
      And in regions far,
      Such heroes bring ye forth
      As those from whom we came;
      And plant our name
      Under that star
      Nor known unto our North.
      And as there plenty grows
      Of laurel everywhere--
      Apollo's sacred tree--
      You it may see
      A poet's brows
      To crown, that may sing there.
      Thy Voyages attend,
      Industrious Hakluyt,
      Whose reading shall inflame
      Men to seek fame,
      And much commend
      To after times thy wit.




[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002