And many thousands dayly do resort,
There to behold the pastime and the sport,
Early and late, used by young and old,
Who valu’d not the fierceness of the cold;
And did not think of that Almighty hand
Who made the waters bare, like to the land.
Thousands and thousands to the river flocks,
Where mighty flakes of ice do lye like rocks.
There may you see the coaches swiftly run,
As if beneath the ice were waters none;