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The "weeping Rachells and mournefull Niobes" were set packing ashore. The colours were run up and a gun fired. The foresail was loosed. The boat was hoisted inboard. The master "took his departure," by observing the bearing of some particular point of land, as the Mew Stone, the Start, the Lizard, etc. Every man was bidden to "say his private prayer for a bonne voyage."
Before I goe? breath not that killing language: There is no sunne but in your eyes, and when I once take leave of those celestiall beames I meet with darkenes in my habitation; Where stretch'd on sable ground I downe shall lay My mournefull body, and with folded Armes Heare sadder noats uppon the Irish harpe And drop division with my brinish teares. Sis. This must be lamentable musick sure! Co.
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