Classic Poem

What a bold Theam have I in hand,
What Fury has possest my Muse,
That could no other subject choose,
But that which none can understand!
Woman, what Tongue, or Pen is able
To determine what thou art,
A thing so moving, and unstable,
So Sea-like, so investigable,
That no Land Map, nor Sea-man's Chart,
Though they shew us snowy Mountains,
Chalky Cliffs, and Christal Fountains,
Sable Thickets, golden Groves,
All that man admires and loves,
Can direct us to thy heart!
Which, though we seek it night and day,
Through vast Regions Ages stray,
And over Seas with Canvas wings make way;
That Heart the whiles,
Like to the floating Isles,
Our Compass evermore beguiles,
And still, still, still remains Terra Incognita .