It is impossible to represent the beauties with which the banks of this noble river are embellished from Windsor to London; the numerous villages on both its banks being all along adorned with the magnificent houses and fine gardens of the nobility.
A person unaccustomed to the sight, cannot behold without surprise the vast number of barges and boats, as well of pleasure as of burden, above bridge, continually passing and repassing for the convenience and supply of the towns and counties washed by its gentle stream; and much more observe the vast fleets which constantly appear below bridge, carrying away the manufactures of Britain and bringing back the produce of the whole earth.
We should be inexcusable, if we did not here introduce Sir John Denham’s fine description of this river, in his Cooper’s Hill, as it would be difficult to say any thing so just, and impossible to say any thing so well upon the subject.
My eye descending from the hill surveys
Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays.
Thames, the most lov’d of all the Ocean’s sons,
By his old sire to his embraces runs,
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity.
Tho’ with those streams he no resemblance hold,