Old Thames's placid flow,
We'll breathe of his leviathans that wallow,
In bated tones and low;
And I mayhap shall say a word in token
Of one prodigious friend
Who lurks—excuse a statement more outspoken—
'Twixt Marlow and Bourne End;
While you, Septimius, set memory roaming
To That which smashed amain
Your trace of proof, and hint how some soft gloaming