All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
And now ere I offend, I must confesse
A little from my theame I will digresse;
Striuing in verse to shew a liuely forme
Of an impetuous gust, or deadly storme.
Where vncontrouled Hyperborean blasts
Teares all to tatters, Tacklings, Sailes, and Masts;
Where boysterous puffes of Eurus breath did hiz
And mongst our shrouds and cordage wildely whiz;
Where thundering Joue amidst his lightning flashing
Seem'd ouerwhelm'd with Neptunes mountaine dashing
Where glorious Titan hath his burning light,
Turning his bright Meridian to blacke night:
Where blustring Eole blew confounding breath,
And thunders fearefull larum threatned death,
Where Skyes, and Seas, Haile, Wind, and slauering Sleet
As if they all at once had meant to meet
In fatall opposition, to expire
The world, and vnto Chaos backe retire.
Thus whilst the Winds and Seas contending gods,
In rough robustious fury are at ods,
The beaten ship tost like a forcelesse feather,
Now vp, now downe, & no man knowing whither:
The Topmast some time tilting at the Moone,
And being vp doth fall againe as soone,
With such precipitating low descent,
As if to hels blacke Kingdome downe she went,
Poore ship that rudder. or no steerage feeles,
Sober, yet worse then any Drunkard reeles,
Vnmanag'd, guidlesse, too and fro she wallowes,
Which (seemingly) the angry billowes swallowes.
A little from my theame I will digresse;
Striuing in verse to shew a liuely forme
Of an impetuous gust, or deadly storme.
Where vncontrouled Hyperborean blasts
Teares all to tatters, Tacklings, Sailes, and Masts;
Where boysterous puffes of Eurus breath did hiz
And mongst our shrouds and cordage wildely whiz;
Where thundering Joue amidst his lightning flashing
Seem'd ouerwhelm'd with Neptunes mountaine dashing
Where glorious Titan hath his burning light,
Turning his bright Meridian to blacke night:
Where blustring Eole blew confounding breath,
And thunders fearefull larum threatned death,
Where Skyes, and Seas, Haile, Wind, and slauering Sleet
As if they all at once had meant to meet
In fatall opposition, to expire
The world, and vnto Chaos backe retire.
Thus whilst the Winds and Seas contending gods,
In rough robustious fury are at ods,
The beaten ship tost like a forcelesse feather,
Now vp, now downe, & no man knowing whither:
The Topmast some time tilting at the Moone,
And being vp doth fall againe as soone,
With such precipitating low descent,
As if to hels blacke Kingdome downe she went,
Poore ship that rudder. or no steerage feeles,
Sober, yet worse then any Drunkard reeles,
Vnmanag'd, guidlesse, too and fro she wallowes,
Which (seemingly) the angry billowes swallowes.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |