  By Henry Robson.—1807. Henry Robson, the author of this, as also of the Collier’s Pay Week, see page 38, was born at Benwell, near Newcastle; and is now residing at the latter place, where, besides the above, he has written several pieces of poetry, possessing a considerable degree of merit. In Britain’s blest island there runs a fine river, Far fam’d for the ore it conveys from the mine: Northumbria’s pride, and that district doth sever From Durham’s rising hills, and ’tis called—The Tyne. Flow on, lovely Tyne, undisturb’d be thy motion, Thy sons hold the threats of proud France in disdain; As long as thy waters shall mix with the ocean, The fleets of Old England will govern the main. Other rivers for fame have by poets been noted In many a soft-sounding musical line; But for sailors and coals never one was yet quoted, Could vie with the choicest of rivers—the Tyne. Flow on, lovely Tyne, &c. When Collingwood conquer’d our foes so completely, And gain’d a fine laurel his brow to entwine; In order to manage the matter quite neatly, Mann’d his vessel with tars from the banks of the Tyne. Flow on, lovely Tyne, &c. Thou dearest of rivers, oft times have I wander’d Thy margin along when oppressed with grief, And thought of thy stream, as it onward meander’d, The murmuring melody gave me relief. Flow on, lovely Tyne, &c. From the fragrant wild-flowers which blow on thy border The playful Zephyrus oft steals an embrace, And curling thy surface in beauteous order, The willows bend forward to kiss thy clear face. Flow on, lovely Tyne, &c. One favour I crave—O kind Fortune befriend me— When downhill I totter, in nature’s decline;— A competent income—if this thou wilt send me, I’ll dwindle out life on the banks of the Tyne. Flow on, lovely Tyne, undisturb’d be thy motion, Thy sons hold the threats of proud France in disdain; As long as thy waters shall mix with the ocean, The fleets of Old England will govern the main. |
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