Poems By the most deservedly Admired Mrs Katherine Philips: The matchless Orinda. To which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace Tragedies. With several other Translations out of French |
 |
|
A Sea-voyage from Tenby to Bristol, begun Sept. 5. 1652.
sent from Bristol to Lucasia
Sept. 8. 1652.
|
|
 | Poems |  |
A Sea-voyage from Tenby to Bristol, begun Sept. 5. 1652. sent from Bristol to Lucasia Sept. 8. 1652.
Hoise up the Sail, cry'd they who understandNo word that carries kindness for the Land:
Such sons of clamour, that I wonder not
They love the Sea, whom sure some Storm begot.
Had he who doubted Motion these men seen,
Or heard their tongues, he had convinced been.
For had our Bark mov'd half as fast as they,
We had not need cast Anchor by the way.
One of the rest pretending to more wit,
Some small Italian spoke, but murther'd it;
20
How to distinguish 'twixt the false and true.
But t' oppose these as mad a thing would be
As 'tis to contradict a Presbyt'ry.
'Tis Spanish though, (quoth I) e'en what you please:
For him that spoke it 'tmight be Bread and Cheese.
So softly moves the Bark which none controuls,
As are the meetings of agreeing Souls:
And the Moon-beams did on the water play,
As if at Midnight 'twould create a Day.
The amorous Wave that shar'd in such dispence
Exprest at once delight and reverence.
Such trepidation we in Lovers spye
Under th'oppression of a Mistress eye.
But then the Wind so high did rise and roar,
Some vow'd they'd never trust the traitor more.
Behold the fate that all our Glories sweep,
Writ in the dangerous wonders of the Deep:
And yet behold Man's easie folly more,
How soon we curse what erst we did adore.
Sure he that first himself did thus convey,
Had some strong passion that he would obey.
The Bark wrought hard, but found it was in vain
To make its party good against the Main,
Toss'd and retreated, till at last we see
She must be fast if ere she should be free.
We gravely Anchor cast, and patiently
Lie prisoners to the weather's cruelty.
We had nor Wind nor Tyde, nor ought but Grief,
Till a kind Spring-tide was our first relief.
Then we float merrily, forgetting quite
The sad confinement of the stormy night.
E're we had lost these thoughts, we ran aground,
And then how vain to be secure we found.
Now they were all surpriz'd. Well, if we must,
Yet none shall say that dust is gone to dust.
But we are off now, and the civil Tide
Assisted us the Tempests to out-ride.
21
Was the Ships posture that in Harbour lay:
Which to a rocky Grove so close were fix'd,
That the Trees branches with the Tackling mix'd.
One would have thought it was, as then it stood,
A growing Navy, or a floating Wood.
But I have done at last, and do confess
My Voyage taught me so much tediousness.
In short, the Heav'ns must needs propitious be,
Because Lucasia was concern'd in me.
| Poems | |