Yet will You want some Ryte.
That lost in your high praise
I wander to and fro,
As seeing sundry Waies:
Yet which the right not know
30To get out of this Maze.
To The Viriginian Voyage
You braue Heroique minds,
Worthy your Countries Name;
That Honour still pursue,
Goe, and subdue,
Whilst loyt'ring Hinds
Lurke here at home, with shame.
Britans, you stay too long,
Quickly aboard bestow you,
And with a merry Gale
10Swell your stretch'd Sayle,
With Vowes as strong,
As the Winds that blow you.
Your Course securely steere,
West and by South forth keepe,
Rocks, Lee-shores, nor Sholes,
When Eolvs scowles,
You need not feare,
So absolute the Deepe.
And cheerefully at Sea,
20Successe you still intice,
To get the Pearle and Gold,
And ours to hold,
Virginia,
Earth's onely Paradise.
Where Nature hath in store
Fowle, Venison, and Fish,
And the Fruitfull'st Soyle,
Without your Toyle,
Three Haruests more,
30All greater then your Wish.
And the ambitious Vine
Crownes with his purple Masse,
The cedar reaching hie
To kisse the Sky
The Cypresse, Pine
And vse-full Sassafras.
To whome, the golden Age
Still Natures lawes doth giue,
No other Cares that tend,
40But Them to defend
From Winters rage,
That long there doth not liue.
When as the Lushious smell
Of that delicious Land,
Aboue the Seas that flowes,
The cleere Wind throwes,
Your Hearts to swell
Approaching the deare Strande.