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,