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TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND,
Captaine John Smith.
THou that hast had a spirit to flie like thunder,
Without thy Countries charge through those strange dangers,
Doth make my muse amaz'd, and more to wonder,
That thy deserts should shared be by strangers,
And thou neglected; (ah miracle!) most lamented,
At thy great patience thus to rest contented.
Without thy Countries charge through those strange dangers,
Doth make my muse amaz'd, and more to wonder,
That thy deserts should shared be by strangers,
And thou neglected; (ah miracle!) most lamented,
At thy great patience thus to rest contented.
For none can truly say thou didst deceive,
Thy Souldiers, Sailers, Merchants, nor thy friends,
But all from thee a true account receive,
Yet nought to thee all these thy vertues brings;
Is none so noble to advance thy merit,
If any be, let him thy praise inherit.
Thy Souldiers, Sailers, Merchants, nor thy friends,
But all from thee a true account receive,
Yet nought to thee all these thy vertues brings;
Is none so noble to advance thy merit,
If any be, let him thy praise inherit.
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