PICTURE XII.

To take on board the sweepings of a jail

Is inexpedient in a voyage like mine,

That will require most patient fortitude,

Strict vigilance and staid sobriety,

Contempt of death on cool reflection founded,

A sense of honour, motives of ambition,

And every sentiment that sways the brave.—

Princes should join me now!— not those I mean

Who lurk in courts, or revel in the shade

Of painted ceilings:— those I mean, more worthy,

Whose daring aims and persevering souls,

Soaring beyond the sordid views of fortune,

Bespeak the lineage of true royalty.

A fleet arrived last month at Carthagene

From Smyrna, Cyprus, and the neighbouring isles:

Their crews, releas'd from long fatigues at sea,

Have spent their earnings in festivity,

And hunger tells them they must out again.

Yet nothing instantly presents itself

Except your new and noble expedition:

The fleet must undergo immense repairs,

And numbers will be unemploy'd awhile:

I'll take them in the hour of dissipation

( Before reflection has made cowards of them,

Suggesting questions of impertinence )

When desperate plans are most acceptable,

Impossibilities are possible,

And all the spring and vigour of the mind

Is strain'd to madness and audacity:

If you approve my scheme, our ninety men

( The number you pronounce to be sufficient )

Shall all be enter'd in a week, at most.

Go, pilot, go — and every motive urge

That may put life into this expedition.

Early in August we must weigh our anchors.

Time wears apace — - bring none but willing men,

So shall our orders be the better borne,

The people less inclin'd to mutiny.