To My Friend Will. Davenant, upon His Poem of "Madagascar"
What mighty princes poets are! those things
The great ones stick at, and our very kings
Lay down, they venture on; and with great ease
Discover, conquer what and where they please.
Some phlegmatic sea-captain would have staid
For money now, or victuals; not have weigh'd
Anchor without 'em; thou, Will, dost not stay
So much as for a wind, but go'st away,
Land'st, view'st the country; fight'st, put'st all to rout,
Before another could be putting out!
And now the news in town is, Dav'nant's come
From Madagascar, fraught with laurel home:
And welcome, Will, for the first time; but prithee
In thy next voyage bring the gold too with thee.
The great ones stick at, and our very kings
Lay down, they venture on; and with great ease
Discover, conquer what and where they please.
Some phlegmatic sea-captain would have staid
For money now, or victuals; not have weigh'd
Anchor without 'em; thou, Will, dost not stay
So much as for a wind, but go'st away,
Land'st, view'st the country; fight'st, put'st all to rout,
Before another could be putting out!
And now the news in town is, Dav'nant's come
From Madagascar, fraught with laurel home:
And welcome, Will, for the first time; but prithee
In thy next voyage bring the gold too with thee.
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