Poems On several Occasions, and Translations Wherein The First and Second books of Virgil's Aeneis are attempted, In English. By Tho. Fletcher |
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On the Recovery of the Spanish Wrack, by Captain Phips. 1686. |
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 | Poems On several Occasions, and Translations |  |
On the Recovery of the Spanish Wrack, by Captain Phips. 1686.
Long uncontroul'd had the proud OceanUsurp'd a lawless Tyranny o'er Man.
Where'er it roll'd, the Arbitrary Tide
Plunder'd, and Nature's useless Laws desy'd.
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Nor were their Goods, nor were themselves their own.
Oft caught in Storms by wanton Whirlwinds made,
They and their Hopes together sunk and dy'd.
In vain did they the pitying Heav'n implore,
Heav'n that should pity them, was scarce secure.
So great the Rage and Av'rice of the Sea,
Not all it's Floods could wash it's Guilt away.
Tho on cach Wave there rode a Bucanier,
Tho Tunis, Sally, Tripoly were there,
No greater Pirate than it self it bare.
Phips, first of all the Heroes of the Main,
Durst make Reptizal on the Sea again.
He Neptune first with equal pow'r attack'd,
And first by him the Sea it self was wrack'd.
Beneath vast Depths where Waves retire to rest,
Nor Moons nor Winds the sleeping Floods molest;
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Unstain'd by Avarice or Luxury;
Which had not Justice yet, nor Peace oppos'd,
Nor Pardons bought for Sins it self had caus'd.
It there, while thousand Tides their Circuits run,
Lay unregarded, and despair'd the Sun:
Till Phips at last the wond'ring Metal drew
From deeper Mines, than where at first it grew.
Thro' harmless Waves the wanton Divers play,
And with dissembled drowning, mock the Sea.
The wond'ring Fish on their new Brethren gaze,
And greet the strange Appendix to their Race.
Secure of danger play'd the wat'ry kind,
Nor fear'd the Net for nobler prey design'd:
Soon had they fill'd the lab'ring Ship with Coin,
Almost enough to sink it back again.
Thence with swell'd hearts and sails they homeward fly,
And trembling Waves bring their own wealth away.
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This humble Tribute of your Subject Sea.
'Tis true, the British Monarchs long in vain
Have boasted Sov'reign Lordship o'er the Main;
But never was their Pow'r confest till now,
By Fate that Blessing was reserv'd for you.
Long did the sloating World your Courage dread,
Your Fame as far, as Seas themselves, is spread.
When other Foes have all your Pow'r confest,
You triumph o'er the Sea it self at last.
Next to Great Monk the largest Prize accru'd,
Monk, who was born of a recov'ring Blood.
When Western Islands were design'd his care.
These the kind Omens of his Fortune were.
Tis thought, when Neptune his preferment heard,
He sent this Present to his future Lord.
| Poems On several Occasions, and Translations | |