The Borough: A Poem, in Twenty-four Letters

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J. Hatchard, 1810 - 347 pages
 

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Page 311 - When tides were neap, and, in the sultry day, Through the tall bounding mud-banks made their way, Which on each side rose swelling, and below The dark warm flood ran silently and slow; There anchoring, Peter chose from man to hide, There hang his head, and view the lazy tide In its hot slimy channel slowly glide...
Page 11 - Upon the Billows rising — all the Deep Is restless change ; the Waves so swell'd and steep, Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells, Nor one, one moment, in its station dwells : But nearer Land you may the Billows trace, As if contending in their watery chace ; May watch the mightiest till the Shoal they reach, Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch ; Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force, And then re-flowing, take their grating course, Raking the rounded Flints, which ages...
Page 27 - twas her proper care. Here will she come, and on the grave will sit, Folding her arms, in long abstracted fit; But if observer pass, will take her round, And careless seem, for she would not be found; Then go again, and thus her hour employ, While visions please her, and while woes destroy.
Page 26 - But she has treasured, and she loves them all ; When in her way she meets them, they appear Peculiar people — death has made them dear. He named his friend, but then his hand she prest, And fondly whisper'd, " Thou must go to rest ;"
Page 332 - The timid girls, half dreading their design, Dip the small foot in the retarded brine, And search for crimson weeds, which spreading flow., Or lie like pictures on the sand below ; With all those bright red pebbles, that the sun Through the small waves so softly shines upon...
Page 26 - Apart, she sigh'd; alone, she shed the tear; Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gave Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave. One day he lighter seem'd, and they forgot The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot; They spoke with cheerfulness, and seem'd to think, Yet said not so — 'Perhaps he will not sink'.
Page 65 - Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,— ALL God save your majesty! CADE I thank you, good people: there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.
Page 10 - Then the broad bosom of the ocean keeps An equal motion; swelling as it sleeps, Then slowly sinking; curling to the strand, Faint, lazy waves o'ercreep the ridgy sand, Or tap the tarry boat with gentle blow, And back return in silence, smooth and slow.
Page 15 - In-shore their passage tribes of Sea-gulls urge, And drop for prey within the sweeping surge ; Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly Far back, then turn, and all their force apply, While to the storm they give their weak complaining cry ; Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast, And in the restless ocean dip for rest.
Page 245 - That giant-building, that high-bounding wall, Those bare-worn walks, that lofty thund'ring hall ! That large loud clock, which tolls each dreaded hour, Those gates and locks, and all those signs of power : It is a prison, with a milder name, Which few inhabit without dread or shame.

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