To Dean Bourn, A Rude River In Devon, By Which Sometimes He Lived.
Dean Bourn, farewell; I never look to see Dean, or thy watery[1] incivility. Thy rocky bottom, that doth tear thy streams And makes them frantic even to all extremes, To my content I never should behold, Were thy streams silver, or thy rocks all gold. Rocky thou art, and rocky we discover Thy men, and rocky are thy ways all over. O men, O manners, now and ever known To be a rocky generation! A people currish, churlish as the seas, And rude almost as rudest savages, With whom I did, and may re-sojourn when Rocks turn to rivers, rivers turn to men.
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"Dean Bourn, farewell; I never look to see..."
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