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The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton

with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell

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LXXIV.

Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Cease your contentions, chiefs; for, as I stood
Upon my watch, I spied an army coming,
Not like a handful of a frighted foe,
But black with armour, moving terribly,
Like a black full cloud, that doth go along
To drop in hail, and hides the thunder-storm.

Mag.
Are there many of them?

Mes.
Thick as the ant-flies in a summer's noon,
Seeming as though they sting as sharply too.