Where London sT ower its turrets show, So stately hythe Thames sside, Fair A rabella, child of woe, For many a day had sat and sighed. And as she heard the waves arise, And as she heard the bleak winds roar, As fast did heave her heartfelt sighs, And still so fast her tears did pour. Old Ballad, supposed by Mickle.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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