’twas august—hastings every day was filling—

hastings, that “greenest spot on memory’s waste!”

with crowds of idlers willing or unwilling

to be bedipped—be noticed—or be braced,

and all things rose a penny in a shilling.

meanwhile, from window and from door, in haste

“accommodation bills” kept coming down,

gladding “the world of letters” in that town.

[pg 37]

each day pour’d in new coach-fulls of new cits,

flying from london smoke and dust annoying,

unmarried misses hoping to make hits,

and new-wed couples fresh from tunbridge toying.

lacemen and placemen, ministers and wits,

and quakers of both sexes, much enjoying

a morning’s reading by the ocean’s rim,

that sect delighting in the sea’s broad brim.