112
BACCHVS.
For on the Top saile, there rann, here, and there,
A Vine that Grapes did, in abundance beare;
And in an instant, was the ships maine Mast
With an obscure-greene-Iuies armes embrac't,
That florisht strait, and were with Buries grac't;
Of which, did Gyrlonds, circle euery brow
Of all the Pirats; and no One knew how.
Which when they sawe, they made the Master stere
Out to the shore: whom Bacchus made forbeare,
With showing more wonders; On the Hatches, He
Apper'd a terrible Lyon, horriblie
Roring; and in the Mid-deck, a Male Beare,
Made with a huge Mane: making all, for feare
Crowd to the sterne, about the Master there:
Whose Minde, he still kept, dantlesse, and sincere.
But on the Captaine rusht and rampt, with force
So rude, and sodaine; that his maine recours
Was to the Maine-Sea strait: and after him,
Leapt all his Mates; as trusting to their swimm;
To fly foule Death. But so; found what they fled,
Being all to Dolphinns, metamorphosed.
The Master, he tooke Ruth of; sau'd, and made.
The blessedst Man, that euer tried his Trade.
These few words giuing him: Be confident
Thou God-inspir'd Pylot! In the Bent
Of my affection, readie to requite
Thy late-to-me-intended benefite.
I am the Roring God, of spritely Wine:
A Vine that Grapes did, in abundance beare;
And in an instant, was the ships maine Mast
With an obscure-greene-Iuies armes embrac't,
That florisht strait, and were with Buries grac't;
Of which, did Gyrlonds, circle euery brow
Of all the Pirats; and no One knew how.
Which when they sawe, they made the Master stere
Out to the shore: whom Bacchus made forbeare,
With showing more wonders; On the Hatches, He
Apper'd a terrible Lyon, horriblie
Roring; and in the Mid-deck, a Male Beare,
Made with a huge Mane: making all, for feare
Crowd to the sterne, about the Master there:
Whose Minde, he still kept, dantlesse, and sincere.
But on the Captaine rusht and rampt, with force
So rude, and sodaine; that his maine recours
Was to the Maine-Sea strait: and after him,
Leapt all his Mates; as trusting to their swimm;
To fly foule Death. But so; found what they fled,
Being all to Dolphinns, metamorphosed.
The Master, he tooke Ruth of; sau'd, and made.
The blessedst Man, that euer tried his Trade.
These few words giuing him: Be confident
Thou God-inspir'd Pylot! In the Bent
Of my affection, readie to requite
Thy late-to-me-intended benefite.
I am the Roring God, of spritely Wine:
