Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes. America: Vols. XXVXXIX. 187679. | | | | Introductory to Southern States | | To the Virginian Voyage | | Michael Drayton (15631631) |
| | | YOU brave heroic minds, | |
| Worthy your countrys name, | |
| That honor still pursue, | |
| Whilst loitering hinds | |
| Lurk here at home, with shame. | 5 |
| Go and subdue. | |
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| Britons, you stay too long, | |
| Quickly aboard bestow you, | |
| And with a merry gale | |
| Swell your stretched sail, | 10 |
| With vows as strong | |
| As the winds that blow you. | |
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| Your course securely steer, | |
| West and by south forth keep, | |
| Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals, | 15 |
| When Eolus scowls, | |
| You need not fear, | |
| So absolute the deep. | |
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| And cheerfully at sea, | |
| Success you still entice, | 20 |
| To get the pearl and gold, | |
| And ours to hold | |
| Virginia, | |
| Earths only paradise. | |
| |
| Where nature hath in store | 25 |
| Fowl, venison, and fish, | |
| And the fruitfulst soil, | |
| Without your toil, | |
| Three harvests more, | |
| All greater than your wish. | 30 |
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| And the ambitious vine | |
| Crowns with his purple mass | |
| The cedar reaching high | |
| To kiss the sky, | |
| The cypress, pine, | 35 |
| And useful sassafras. | |
| |
| To whose, the golden age | |
| Still natures laws doth give, | |
| No other cares attend, | |
| But them to defend | 40 |
| From winters rage, | |
| That long there doth not live. | |
| |
| When as the luscious smell | |
| Of that delicious land, | |
| Above the seas that flows, | 45 |
| The clear wind throws, | |
| Your hearts to swell | |
| Approaching the dear strand; | |
| |
| In kenning of the shore | |
| (Thanks to God first given) | 50 |
| O you the happiest men, | |
| Be frolic then, | |
| Let cannons roar, | |
| Frighting the wide heaven; | |
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| And in regions far | 55 |
| Such heroes bring ye forth, | |
| As those from whom we came, | |
| And plant our name | |
| Under that star | |
| Not known unto our north; | 60 |
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| And as there plenty grows | |
| Of laurel everywhere, | |
| Apollos sacred tree, | |
| You it may see, | |
| A poets brows | 65 |
| To crown, that may sing there. | |
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| Thy voyages attend, | |
| Industrious Hackluit, | |
| Whose reading shall inflame | |
| Men to seek fame, | 70 |
| And much commend | |
| To after-times thy wit. | | | | |
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