In which no lustful finger can profane him, Nor any earth with black eclipses wane him
to rest in Heaven's determination
He had lain in the grave four days.
On this mighty tide the black ships … are borne along to the town of St Ogg's, which shows its aged, fluted red roofs and the broad gables of its wharves between the low wooded hill and the river brink, tinging the water with a soft purple hue under the transient glance of this February sun.
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