Written on the Sea Shore, Oct. 1784. ON some rude fragment of the rocky shore, Where on the fractured cliff the billows break, Musing, my solitary seat I take, And listen to the deep and solemn roar. O`er the dark waves the winds tempestuous howl; The screaming sea-bird quits the troubled sea: But the wild gloomy scene has charms for me, And suits the mournful temper of my soul. Already shipwreck`d by the storms of Fate, Like the poor mariner methinks I stand, Cast on a rock; who sees the distant land From whence no succour comes--or comes too late. Faint and more faint are heard his feeble cries, Till in the rising tide the exhausted sufferer dies.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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