104
COWLEY'S POEMS.
ODE.
SITTING AND DRINKING IN THE CHAIR MADE
OUT OF THE RELICKS OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE's
SHIP.
OUT OF THE RELICKS OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE's
SHIP.
Cheer up, my mates, the wind does fairly blow,
Clap on more sail, and never spare;
Farewell all lands, for now we are
In the wide sea of drink, and merrily we go.
Bless me, 't is hot! another bowl of wine,
And we shall cut the burning Line:
Hey, boys! she scuds away, and by my head I know
We round the world are sailing now.
What dull men are those that tarry at home.
When abroad they might wantonly roam,
And gain such experience, and spy too
Such countries and wonders, as I do!
But pr'ythee, good pilot, take heed what you do,
And fail not to touch at Peru!
With gold there the vessel we 'll store,
And never, and never be poor,
No, never be poor any more.
Clap on more sail, and never spare;
Farewell all lands, for now we are
In the wide sea of drink, and merrily we go.
Bless me, 't is hot! another bowl of wine,
And we shall cut the burning Line:
Hey, boys! she scuds away, and by my head I know
We round the world are sailing now.
What dull men are those that tarry at home.
When abroad they might wantonly roam,
And gain such experience, and spy too
Such countries and wonders, as I do!
But pr'ythee, good pilot, take heed what you do,
And fail not to touch at Peru!
With gold there the vessel we 'll store,
And never, and never be poor,
No, never be poor any more.
What do I mean? What thoughts do me misguide?
As well upon a staff may witches ride
Their fancy'd journeys in the air,
As I sail round the ocean in this chair!
'Iis true; but yet this chair which here you see,
For all its quiet now, and gravity,
As well upon a staff may witches ride
Their fancy'd journeys in the air,
As I sail round the ocean in this chair!
'Iis true; but yet this chair which here you see,
For all its quiet now, and gravity,
