To my Friend Will. Davenant; upon his Poem of Madagascar.

WHat mighty Princes Poets are? those things
The great ones stick at, and our very Kings
Lay down, they venter on; and with great ease,
Discover, conquer, what, and where they please.
Some Flegmatick Sea-Captain, would have staid
For money now, or victuals; not have waid
Anchor without 'em; Thou (Will) do'st not stay
So much as for a wind, but go'st away,
Land'st, view'st the Country; fight'st, put'st all to rout,
Before another could be putting out!
And now the news in Town is; Dav'nant's come
From Madagascar, Fraught with Laurel home;
And welcom (Will) for the first time, but prithee
In thy next Voyage, bring the gold too with thee.