River Severn

thumb|250px|High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleamIslanded in Severn stream;The bridges from the steepled crestCross the water east and west.—A. E. Housman thumb|250px|There is a gentle nymph ... that with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream. —John Milton The River Severn (Welsh: Afon Hafren), at 220 miles (354 km) long, is the longest river in Great Britain. Quotes Revolted Mortimer!He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,But by the chance of war; to prove that trueNeeds no more but one tongue for all those wounds,Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he tookWhen on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,In single opposition, hand to hand,He did confound the best part of an hourIn changing hardiment with great Glendower:Three times they breathed and three times did they drink,Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,Bloodstained with these valiant combatants.Never did base and rotten policyColour her working with such deadly wounds;Nor could the noble MortimerReceive so many, and all willingly:Then let not him be slander'd with revolt. William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part 1, I, iii There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream.Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure;Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,That had the sceptre from his father Brute.She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuitOf her enragèd step-dame Guendolen,Commended her fair innocence to the flood,That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played,Held up their pearlèd wrists and took her in,Bearing her straight to aged Nereus’ hall;Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,And gave her to his daughters to imbatheIn nectared lavers, strewed with asphodel:And through the porch and inlet of each senseDropped in ambrosial oils, till she revived,And underwent a quick immortal change,Made goddess of the river. John Milton, from Comus (1634) The Danube to the Severn gave  The darken’d heart that beat no more;  They laid him by the pleasant shore,And in the hearing of the wave.There twice a day the Severn fills;  The salt sea-water passes by,  And hushes half the babbling Wye,And makes a silence in the hills.The Wye is hush’d nor moved along,  And hush’d my deepest grief of all,  When fill’d with tears that cannot fall,I brim with sorrow drowning song.The tide flows down, the wave again  Is vocal in its wooded walls;  My deeper anguish also falls,And I can speak a little then. Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H. (1850), XIX From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,  The shires have seen it plain,From north and south the sign returns  And beacons burn again.* * * * *It dawns in Asia, tombstones show  And Shropshire names are read;And the Nile spills his overflow  Beside the Severn's dead. A. E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad (1896), I High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleamIslanded in Severn stream;The bridges from the steepled crestCross the water east and west. A. E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad (1896), XXVIII The men that live in West England  They see the Severn strong,A-rolling on rough water brown  Light aspen leaves along.They have the secret of the Rocks,  And the oldest kind of song. Hilaire Belloc, "The South Country" (c. 1901), st. 4 External links Category:Rivers of Europe Category:England Category:Wales