Forth sped thy gallant sailors, blithe and free,
Fearing nor foemans hate, nor iron clime,
Nor Limas flame, nor Platas fever-slime,
So they might give thee far Cathay in fee;
Yet swept thy poets oer a vaster sea,
Neath fairer gales to Indies more sublime,
Questing along the golden shores of Rhyme
For all the treasure of eternity.
One will, one end, one pulse of deep desire,
Drove Hudson through the ice to joy and death,
Sped Drake to glory through the long South roll:
And kindled Marlowes eager heart with fire,
Set Spenser voyaging neath the spirits breath,
And won the world for Shakespeares captain soul.
Sonnets of the Empire:Glorianas England
written by Archibald Thomas Strong
© Archibald Thomas Strong