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To the Virginian Voyage
by Michael Drayton

English poet. His most important work is contained in the 1619 edition of his Poems, and includes the sonnet 'Since There's No Help, Come Let Us Kiss and Part' which D.G. Rossetti described as 'almost the best in the language, if not quite'. His 1606 Poems Lyric and Pastoral introduced the form of the Horatian ode to English poetry, and contains 'To the Virginian Voyage' and 'Fair Stood the Wind for France'. He also wrote various poems on figures from mythology and history, notably England's Heroical Epistles (1597). His great work Poly-Olbion was intended as 'a chorographical description of all the tracts, rivers, mountains, forests, and other parts of Great Britain', and is one of the longest poems in English. Other works in his vast output include Idea. The Shepherd's Garland (1593), Idea's Mirror (1594), and Endymion and Phoebe (1595), one of the sources for Keats' Endymion.


To the Virginian Voyage
by Michael Drayton

You brave heroic minds,
Worthy your country's name,
That honour still pursue,
Go, and subdue,
Whilst loit'ring hinds
Lurke here at home with shame.

Britons, you stay too long,
Quickly aboard bestow you;
And with a merry gale
Swell your stretched sail,
With vows as strong
As the winds that blow you.

Your course securely steer,
West and by South forth keep;
Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals,
When Eolus scowls,
You need nor fear,
So absolute the deep.

And cheerfully at sea,
Success you still entice
To get the pearl and gold;
And ours to hold
Virginia,
Earth's only Paradise.

Where Nature hath in store
Fowl, venison, and fish;
And the fruitfull'st soil,
Without your toil,
Three harvests more,
All greater than your wish.

And the ambitious vine
Crowns with his purple mass
The cedar reaching high
To kiss the sky,
The cypress, pine,
And useful sassafras.

To whom the golden age
Still Nature's laws doth give,
No other cares attend
But them to defend
From winter's rage,
That long there doth not live.

When as the luscious smell
Of that delicious land,
Above the sea that flows,
The clear wind throws,
Your hearts to swell,
Approaching the dear strand.

In kenning of the shore,
(Thanks to God first given)
O you, the happiest men,
Be frolic then!
Let canons roar,
Frighting the wide heaven!

And in regions far
Such heroes bring ye forth
As those from whom we came,
And plant our name
Under that star
Not known unto our North.

And as there plenty grows
Of laurel everywhere,
Apollo's sacred tree,
You may it see
A poet's brows
To crown, that may sing there.

Thy voyages attend
Industrious Hakluit,
Whose reading shall inflame
Men to seek fame,
And much commend
To after-times thy wit.


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