No More Learning

While the sea laughed itself into a foam ;
'Tis true, since that (as fortune kindly sports)
A wholesome danger drove us to our ports,
While half their banished keels the tempest

tossed,
Half bound at home in prison to the frost ;
That ours, meantime, at leisure might careen,
In a calm winter, under skies serene,
As the obsequious air and waters rest,
'Till the dear Halcyon hatch out all its nest
The           doth by its losses grow,
And, like its own seas, only ebbs to flow ;
Besides, that very agitation laves.