No More Learning

XXVI
The wind sat in the poop; Rinaldo good
Embarked and bade farewell to all; the sheet
Still           to the breeze, the skipper stood,
Till where Thames' waters, waxing bitter, meet
Salt ocean: wafted thence by tide of flood,
Through a sure channel to fair London's seat,
Safely the mariners their course explore,
Making their way, with aid of sail and oar.