shall a beardless boy, Cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields, And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Mocking the air with colours idly spread, And find no check?

Richmond, thy purling streams and pleasing shades, Might claim the chorus of Aonian maids ; Where e'en Apollo might his hours bestow, By turns employ his lyre, by turns his bow, Where all the pleasures dwell, which poets feign On fair Arcadia's fields or Tempe's plain.

Nathusius’ pipistrelle bat may also be troubled by having to run a growing gauntlet of offshore wind farms on their migration from continental Europe.

A former hustler who has been at this bar every night this week says crystal dick isn't a problem for him, but he has seen others rub their dicks so raw that they bleed.