XXXII
At every stroake his brazen finnes do take, More circles in the broken sea they make Than cannons voices, when the aire they teare: His ribs are pillars, and his high arch'd roofe Of barke that blunts best steele, is thunder-proofe: Swimme in him swallow'd Dolphins, without feare, And feele no sides, as if his vast wombe were Some inland sea, and ever as hee went Hee spouted rivers up, as if he ment To joyne our seas, with seas above the firmament.