But they’re a social multitude.”
“The rooks are shot, the trees are fell’d,
And nest and nursery all expell’d;
With better fate the giant-tree, 180
Old Bulmer’s Oak, is gone to sea.
The church-way walk is now no more,
And men must other ways explore;
Though this indeed promotion gains,
For this the park’s new wall contains;
And here I fear we shall not meet