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“What ails you, Child?" she sobb’d, “Look here!”
'Twas twisted betwixt nave and spoke;
“And whither are you going, Child,
She sate like one past all relief;
“My Child, in Durham do you dwell ?”
And I to Durham, Sir, belong."
The chaise drove on; our journey's end
Up to the Tavern-door we post;
“And let it be of duffil grey,
RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE..
There was a roaring in the wind all night;
I was a Traveller then upon the moor;
But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might