> Tropical. Think tropical.
Okay. My man Andrew Marvell, quondam colleague of John Milton in Oliver Cromwell's Foreign Office:
Where the remote Bermoothes ride
In th' ocean's bosom unespied,
>From a small boat that row'd along
The list'ning winds received this song:—
"What should we do but sing His praise
That led us through the watery maze
Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks,
That lift the deep upon their backs,
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?"