It chanced one summer morn I passed the clefts Of Silver-How, and turning to the left, Fast by the blacksmith's shop, two doors beyond Old Stubb's, the tart-woman's, approached a glen Secluded as a coy nun from the world. Beauteous it was but lonesome, and while I Leaped up for joy to think that earth was good And lusty in her boyhood, I beheld Graven on the tawny rock these magic words, "BUY WARREN'S BLACKING;"