Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
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By Clyde's meandering stream,
When Sol in joy is seen to leave
The earth with crimson beam;
When islands that wandered far
Above his sea couch lie,
And here and there some gem-like star
Re-opes its sparkling eye.
HEX: #2E2F30
RGB: 46 47 48
RGB: 46 47 48
HEX: #F8E516
RGB: 248 229 22
RGB: 248 229 22
HEX: #2D4A61
RGB: 45 74 97
RGB: 45 74 97
HEX: #6B8499
RGB: 107 132 153
RGB: 107 132 153
HEX: #D2DFEB
RGB: 210 223 235
RGB: 210 223 235
He spoke to him in the old language;
He was to have a peculiar care
For the Welsh people. History showed us
He was too big to be nailed to the wall
Of a stone chapel, yet still we crammed him
Between the boards of a black book.