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BOATING
[ Also see Amusements Navigation Ocean Ships Shipwreck ]

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
  Just parted from the shore,
    And to the fisher's chorus-note,
      Soft moves the dipping oar!
      - Joanna Baillie,
        Oh, Swiftly Glides the Bonnie Boat,
        a song

Like the watermen that row one way and look another.
      - Robert Burton,
        Anatomy of Melancholy--Democritus to the Reader

On the ear
  Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
      - Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
        Childe Harold (canto III, st. 86)

But oars alone can ne'er prevail
  To reach the distant coast;
    The breath of Heaven must swell the sail,
      Or all the toil is lost.
      - William Cowper, Human Frailty (st. 6)

We lie and listen to the hissing waves,
  Wherein our boat seems sharpening its keel,
    Which on the sea's face all unthankful graves
      An arrowed scratch as with a tool of steel.
      - John Davidson,
        In a Music-Hall and Other Poems (l. 17)

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
  In a beautiful pea-green boat.
      - Edward Lear, The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

And all the way, to guide their chime,
  With falling oars they kept the time.
      - Andrew Marvell, the Younger, Bermudas

Like the watermen who advance forward while they look backward.
      - Michel Eyquem de Montaigne,
        Of Profit and Honesty (bk. II, ch. XXIX)

Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
  Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
    Soon as the woods on shore dim,
      We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn;
        Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
          The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
      - Thomas Moore, Canadian Boat Song

Gracefully, gracefully glides our bark
  On the bosom of Father Thames,
    And before her bows the wavelets dark
      Break into a thousand gems.
      - Thomas Noel, A Thames Voyage

Like watermen who look astern while they row the boat ahead.
      - Plutarch,
        Whether 'twas rightfully said, Live concealed

Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
  Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
      - Alexander Pope, Essay on Man
         (ep. III, l. 177)

The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
  Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
    Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
      The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver,
        Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
          The water which they beat to follow faster,
            As amorous of their strokes.
      - William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra
         (Enobarbus at II, ii)


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