S’ impossibly I loue You,
    And for you sit so hie,
      Whence none may remoue You
    In my cleere Poesie, 10
    That I oft deny
      You so ample Merit.

      The freedome of my Spirit
    Maintayning (still) my Cause,
      Your Sex not to inherit,
    Vrging the Salique Lawes;
    But your Vertue drawes
      From me euery due.

      Thus still You me pursue,
    That no where I can dwell, 20
      By Feare made iust to You,
    Who naturally rebell,
    Of You that excell
      That should I still Endyte,

      Yet will You want some Ryte. 
    That lost in your high praise
      I wander to and fro,
    As seeing sundry Waies: 
    Yet which the right not know
      To get out of this Maze. 30

TO THE VIRIGINIAN VOYAGE

    You braue Heroique minds,
    Worthy your Countries Name;
      That Honour still pursue,
      Goe, and subdue,
    Whilst loyt’ring Hinds
    Lurke here at home, with shame.

    Britans, you stay too long,
    Quickly aboard bestow you,
      And with a merry Gale
      Swell your stretch’d Sayle, 10
    With Vowes as strong,
    As the Winds that blow you.

    Your Course securely steere,
    West and by South forth keepe,
      Rocks, Lee-shores, nor Sholes,
      When EOLVS scowles,
    You need not feare,
    So absolute the Deepe.

    And cheerefully at Sea,
    Successe you still intice, 20
      To get the Pearle and Gold,
      And ours to hold,
    VIRGINIA,
    Earth’s onely Paradise.

    Where Nature hath in store
    Fowle, Venison, and Fish,
      And the Fruitfull’st Soyle,
      Without your Toyle,
    Three Haruests more,
    All greater then your Wish. 30

    And the ambitious Vine
    Crownes with his purple Masse,
      The cedar reaching hie
      To kisse the Sky
    The Cypresse, Pine
    And vse-full Sassafras.

    To whome, the golden Age
    Still Natures lawes doth giue,
      No other Cares that tend,
      But Them to defend 40
    From Winters rage,
    That long there doth not liue.

    When as the Lushious smell
    Of that delicious Land,
      Aboue the Seas that flowes,
      The cleere Wind throwes,
    Your Hearts to swell
    Approaching the deare Strande.

    In kenning of the Shore
    (Thanks to God first giuen,) 50
      O you the happy’st men,
      Be Frolike then,
    Let Cannons roare,
    Frighting the wide Heauen.