Whose fruitfull streames with winding in and out,
Forcing their way through hollow lands about,
From th’occidentall with swift course do run,
Where Hesper bright brings vp the golden sun:
And on the siluer brest of this great lord
Of all the deepes, that Albion’s wombe doth hoard,
Downe from the easterne seas I might descrie
Many swift-winged barkes, that seem’d to flie,
Cutting their passage through the threatning waue,
That 'bout their sides in vaine did rore and raue;