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Now with his hands in stead of broad-palm'd Oares,
The Swaine attempts to get the shell-strewd shores,
And with continuall lading making way,
Thrust the small Boat into as faire a Bay
As euer Merchant wisht might be the rode
Wherein to ease his sea-torne Vessels lode.

168

It was an Iland (hugg'd in Neptunes armes,
As tendring it against all forraigne harmes,)
And Mona height: so amiably faire,
So rich in soyle, so healthfull in her aire,
So quicke in her increase, (each dewy night
Yeelding that ground as greene, as fresh of plight
As't was the day before, whereon then fed
Of gallant Steeres, full many a thousand head.)
So deckt with Floods, so pleasant in her Groues,
So full of well-fleec'd Flockes and fatned Droues;
That the braue issue of the Troian line,
(Whose worths, like Diamonds, yet in darknesse shine,)
Whose deeds were sung by learned Bards as hye,
In raptures of immortall Poesie,
As any Nations, since the Grecian Lads
Were famous made by Homers Iliads.)
Those braue heroicke spirits, twixt one another
Prouerbially call

Mon Mam Kumbry.

Mona Cambria's Mother.

Yet Cambria is a land from whence haue come
Worthies well worth the race of Ilium.
Whose true desert of praise could my Muse touch,
I should be proud that I had done so much.
And though of mighty Brute I cannot boast,
Yet doth our warlike strong Deuonian coast
Resound his worth, since on her waue-worne strand
He and his Troians first set foot on land,
Strooke Saile, and Anchor cast on

Petunt Classem omnibus bonis onustam, prosperis ventis mare sulcantes in Totenesio littore feliciter applicarunt. Galf. Monum.

Totnes shore.

Though now no Ship can ride there any more.