today

Thule, the period of cosmography,
Doth vaunt of Hecla, whose sulphureous fire
Doth melt the frozen clime and thaw the sky;
Trinacrian Etna's flames ascend not higher:
These things seem wondrous, yet more wondrous I,
Whose heart with fear doth freeze, with love doth fry.

The Andalusian merchant, that returns
Laden with cochineal and china dishes,
Reports in Spain how strangely Fogo burns
Amidst an ocean full of flying fishes:
These things seem wondrous, yet more wondrous I,
Whose heart with fear doth freeze, with love doth fry.

The above is simply one of England's best poems and is also of interest because of the synaesthesic qualities of Thomas Weelke's fine prose. Kerman remarked that this piece links Weelkes with the works of Drake and Hakluyt and 'should occupy a special place for admirers of the Elizabethan spirit'.

Anyway I'll be in Greenland (and Iceland) next week and hope I find time to blog.