| |
From “Poly-Olbion”
WHEN as the pliant Muse, with fair and even flight, | |
| Betwixt her silver wings is wafted to the Wight; | |
| That isle, which jutting out into the sea so far, | |
| Her offspring traineth up in exercise of war, | |
| Those pirates to put back, that oft purloin her trade, | 5 |
| Or Spaniards or the French attempting to invade. | |
| Of all the southern isles she holds the highest place, | |
| And evermore hath been the great’st in Britain’s grace: | |
| Not one of all her nymphs her sovereign favoreth thus, | |
| Embraced in the arms of old Oceanus. | 10 |
| For none of her account so near her bosom stand, | |
| ’Twixt Penwith’s farthest point and Goodwin’s queachy sand, | |
| Both for her seat and soil, that far before the other | |
| Most justly may account great Britain for her mother. | |
| A finer fleece than hers not Lemster’s self can boast, | 15 |
| Nor Newport, for her mart, o’ermatched by any coast. | |
| To these the gentle South, with kisses smooth and soft, | |
| Doth in her bosom breathe, and seems to court her oft. | |
| Besides her little rills, her inlands that do feed, | |
| Which with their lavish streams do furnish every need; | 20 |
| And meads, that with their fine soft grassy towels stand | |
| To wipe away the drops and moisture from her hand; | |
| And to the north, betwixt the fore-land and the firm, | |
| She hath that narrow sea which we the Solent term; | |
| Where those rough ireful tides, as in her streights they meet, | 25 |
| With boisterous shocks and roars each other rudely greet: | |
| Which fiercely when they charge, and sadly make retreat, | |
| Upon the bulwarkt forts of Hurst and Calsheot beat, | |
| Then to Southampton run: which by her shores supplied | |
| (As Portsmouth by her strength), doth vilify their pride. | 30 |
| |
