I �thro' each charter'd street.Near where the charter'd Thames does And mark in face I meetMarks of weakness, marks of woe,
In every of every Man,In every Infants cry of fear.In every ; in every ban,The mind-forg'd manacles I
How the Chimney-cryEvery blackning Church appalls.And the hapless Soldiers sighRuns in down Palace walls
But most thro' midnight �I hearHow the youthful Harlots curseBlasts the new-born Infants And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.