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115
Time was, I should have thought it sweet
To count the echoings of my feet,
And watch the storm-vex'd flame.
And there in black soul-jaundic'd fit
A sad gloom-pamper'd Man to sit,
And listen to the roar:
When mountain Surges bellowing deep
With an uncouth monster leap
Plung'd foaming on the shore.
Then by the Lightning's blaze to mark
Some toiling tempest-shatter'd bark:
Her vain distress-guns hear:
I 2
