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 MARVELL

XXII

IN EXILE

WHERE the remote Bermudas ride In the Ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat that rowed along The listening winds received this song.

'What should we do but sing his praise That led us through the watery maze, Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks That lift the deep upon their backs, Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own? He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storms and prelates' rage : He gave us this eternal spring Which here enamels everything, And sends the fowls to us in care On daily visits through the air. He hangs in shades the orange bright Like golden lamps in a green night, And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows: He makes the figs our mouths to meet, And throws the melons at our feet; Jiut apples plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice. With cedars chosen by his hand From I^ebanon he stores the land, And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergrease on shore.

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