  BY J.L. O lovely Tyne, thy beauty’s seen, Meand’ring sweet thy lucid stream— Thy banks are woody, fertile, green, Enliven’d by the solar beam. Thy sons are healthy, blooming, strong, Thy daughters lovely as the spring; They joyful trip the meads along, Such joys doth sweet industry bring. Adieu, sweet Tyne—a long adieu, I now must leave thee far behind; Yet tho’ secluded from my view, Thoul’t dwell for ever in my mind. |
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