Lest Turkish silks or Tyrian wares
Sink in the drowning ship,
Or the rich dust Peru prepares,
Defraud their long projecting cares,
And add new treasures to the greedy deep.
My little skiff that skims the shores,
With half a sail and two short oars,
Provides me food in gentler waves;
But if they gape in watery graves
I trust the Eternal Power, whose hand