By Captain Richard Bingham The journie is but easie to bee gonne The frozen Pole disjoyned farre doth lye: We shape our course farre from the burning Zoune The soile is subject to a milder skye. And by proofe of many recordes tride, The Paradise of all the world beside. Then launch, ye noble youths, into the maine, No lurking perils lye amidde the way, Your travell shall returne you treble gaine, And make your names renowned another day. For valiant mindes through twentie Seas will roome, And fish for lucke, while sluggards lye at home.