'No more shall I along thy christall glide, The barge with boughes and rushes beautifi'd.... To Richmond, Kingstone, and to Hampton Court. Never againe shall I with finnie ore Cut from or draw unto the faithfull shore, And landing here, or safely landing there, Make way to my beloved Westminster.'
Milton, in his 'Vacation Exercise,' bestows upon the Thames the epithet of 'Royal-towered.' How Denham celebrated it is well known to most. In his view it was 'the most loved of all the Ocean's sons,' and he commended it especially for its freedom from sudden and impetuous wave, from the unexpected inundations which spoil the mower's hopes and mock the ploughman's toil.
'Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full'--
such was the famous panegyric he passed upon it. From Denham, too, came an early poetical recognition of the growth of London's commerce. The Thames, he says, brings home to us, and makes the Indies ours; his fair bosom is the world's exchange. To Pope, in his 'Windsor Forest,' the Thames appears as the 'great father of the British floods,' on whose shores figure future navies.
'No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, No lakes so gentle, and no spring so clear.'
And the poet ends by prophesying the time when 'unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,' whole nations entering with each swelling tide. Elsewhere he assures us that 'blest Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield.' Thomson, again, dwells on the extent of the trade fostered by the river. Commerce, he says, has chosen for his grand resort 'Thy stream, O Thames, large, gentle, deep, majestic, King of floods!' And he describes how, on either hand,
'Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts Shot up their spires.'
Then, as now, 'the sooty hulk steered sluggish on,' while
'The splendid barge Row'd, regular, to harmony; around, The boat, light-skimming, stretched its oary wings.'
Up to this time, the river had been called 'clear' and 'crystal,' in spite of 'sooty hulks;' but, with the advent of Cowper, another note is struck. With him the Thames is
'The finest stream That wavers to the noon-day beam,'
'Nor yet, my Delia, to the main Runs the sweet tide without a stain, Unsullied as it seems; The nymphs of many a sable flood Deform with streaks of oozy mud The bosom of the Thames.'