Classic Poem

Now through the ocean in great haste they flunder,
Raising the white foam with their silver Tayles.
Cloto with bosom breaks the waves in sunder,
And, with more fury then of custom, sayles;
Nise runs up an end, Nerine (younger)
Leaps o're them; frizled with her touching Scales,
The crooked Billows (yielding) make a lane
For the feard Nymphs to post it through the Maine.

Upon the Triton's back, with kindled Face,
The beauteous Ericyna furious rode.
He, to whose fortune fell so great a grace,
Feels not the Rider, proud of his fair load.
Now were they almost come upon the place
Where a stiff gale the warlike Navy blow'd.
Here they devide, and in an instant cast
Themselves about the Ships advancing fast.

The Goddess, with a party of the rest,
Lays her self plum against the Am'ral's Prow,
Stopping her progress with such main contest
That the swoln sayl the Wind in vain doth blow.
To the hard Oak she rivets her soft Brest,
Forcing the strong ship back again to go.
Others (beleagu'ring) lift it from the Wave,
It from the Bar of Enemies to save.

As to their Store-House when the Houswife Ants,
Carrying th'unequal Burthens plac't with slight
To their small shoulders (lest cold Winter's wants
Surprize them helpless) exercise their might;
This tugs, that shoves, one runs, another pants;
Strength far above their size, they All unite;
So toyl the Nymphs, to snatch and to defend
The men of Lusus from a dismal end.