Forth sped thy gallant sailors, blithe and free, <br />Fearing nor foeman’s hate, nor iron clime, <br />Nor Lima’s flame, nor Plata’s fever-slime, <br />So they might give thee far Cathay in fee; <br />Yet swept thy poets o’er a vaster sea, <br />’Neath fairer gales to Indies more sublime, <br />Questing along the golden shores of Rhyme <br />For all the treasure of eternity. <br /> <br />One will, one end, one pulse of deep desire, <br />Drove Hudson through the ice to joy and death, <br />Sped Drake to glory through the long South roll: <br />And kindled Marlowe’s eager heart with fire, <br />Set Spenser voyaging ’neath the spirit’s breath, <br />And won the world for Shakespeare’s captain soul.<br /><br />Archibald Thomas Strong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-of-the-empire-gloriana-s-england/
