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38 Till from thy threat’ning dangers freed, My charmer trips the flow’ry mead; Then bid again with sullen roar Thy billows lash the sounding shore!
 * Abermo, from thy rocky bay

Drive each terrific surge away: Though sunk beneath thy billows lie Proud fanes, that once assail’d the sky , Dash’d by thy foam, yon vestal braves The dangers of thy bursting waves. O! Cyric, see my lovely fair Consign’d to thy paternal care; Rebuke the raging seas, and land My Morvyth on yon friendly strand.
 * Dyssynni, tame thy furious tide,

Fix’d at thy source in peace abide;