Yet wise men, stout, and stung, grow Lyon bold.
Now we looke out for Land, now we see Malt!
That little famous Ile, though sterrile soile;
Where we’le some Bay, or Creeke seeke to assault
Whence Ancorage, and safety ships recoile:
Now, now, let Anchor fall we’re in the Road
Savely arriv’d, by providence of God.
This done, as time avouc’hd, I kindly bad
My Consorts all adew, then came a shoare,
Where I such plenty of great favours had,