Now the great winds shorewards blow; Now the salt tides seawards flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

-Arnold, Matthew
  The Strayed Reveller, and Other Poems,'The Forsaken Merman', l.4^7.

Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to My breast.

-Herbert, George
'The Pulley', collected in The Temple, Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations (published posthumously,1633).