You brave heroic minds

Worthy your country's name,
That honour still pursue;

Go and subdue!

Whilst loitering hinds

Lurk here at home with shame,

Britons, you stay too long:
Quickly aboard bestow you,
And with a merry gale
Swell your stretch'd 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 not fear,

So absolute the deep.

And cheerfully at sea
Success you shall 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,

Nor 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 seas 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 cannons 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 it may see

A poet's brows

To crown that may sing there.

Thy voyages attend

Industrious Hackluit

Whose reading shall inflame
Men to seek fame,

And much commend

To after times thy wit.

Michael Drayton.

V

A PICTURE OF ENGLAND

THIS royal throne of kings, this sceptr❜d isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,

This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth,

Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry,
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son,

This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land.

William Shakespeare.

VI

ENGLAND INVINCIBLE

THIS England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,

But when it first did help to wound itself,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,

If England to itself do rest but true.

William Shakespeare.

VII

ENGLAND AT WAR

THE PREPARATION

Now all the youth of England are on fire,
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies:
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man:
They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,
Following the mirror of all Christian kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
For now sits Expectation in the air,
And hides a sword from hilts unto the point
With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets,
Promised to Harry and his followers.
The French, advised by good intelligence
Of this most dreadful preparation,
Shake in their fear and with pale policy
Seek to divert the English purposes.

O England! model to thy inward greatness,

Like little body with a mighty heart,

What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,

Were all thy children kind and natural!

AT SEA

have seen

Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose that you
The well-appointed king at Hampton Pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:
Play with your fancies, and in them behold
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge: 0, do but think