by John Donne

O Thou which to search out the secret parts
    Of the India, or rather Paradise
    Of knowledge, hast with courage and advice
Lately launch'd into the vast sea of arts ;
Disdain not in thy constant travelling
    To do as other voyagers, and make
    Some turns into less creeks, and wisely take
Fresh water at the Heliconian spring.
I sing not, siren-like, to tempt, for I
    Am harsh ; nor as those schismatics with you,
    Which draw all wits of good hope to their crew ;
But seeing in you bright sparks of poetry,
    I, though I brought no fuel, had desire
    With these articulate blasts to blow the fire.