To Endimion Porter, passing to Court to him by Water.
ODE 1.
1
The truth and wisdome of your Compass boast
(Dull Men of th' Sea!) when you the flow'rie Coast
Have reach'd, to which you steere;
Think then, those Clouds are shrunk again,
That svvell'd, as if they hoorded Rain
For all the Yeare
Think then, those ruder Winds are dumbe,
That would endeavour Storms to come;
And that the Rocks no more
(As they were wont) shall hide themselves,
To practise mischief on the Shelves
So near the Shore.
2
Into the Silver Flood I lanch'd, and fraught
My bark with Hope the Parasite of thought:
To Court my voyage tends;
But hope, grew sick, and made me feare,
The Bark would split, that harbour'd there
To trade for Friends.
Wise Love, that sought a noble choice
To tune my Harp, and raise my Voice,
Forbids my Pinnace rest,
Till I had cur'd weak Hope again,
By safely Anchoring within
Endimion's Brest.
3
Endimion! who, with Numbers sweet can move
Soules (though untun'd) to such degrees of love;
That men should sooner see,
Th'inticed Needle disobey
The tempting Adamant, than they
His Poesie:
And I (exalted now) ne're minde
Their breath, who storm'd t'increase the Winde
By which th'are overthrowne;
Their Stock of rage, and Lyrick Skill,
They boast in vain; the Poets Hill
Is all mine own.
