Page:AlmadaHill.djvu/16

 Where sea-ward narrower rolls the shining tide Though hills by hills embosom'd on each side, Monastic walls in every glen arise In coldest white fair glistening to the skies Amid the brown-brow'd rocks; and, far as sight, Proud domes and villages array'd in white Climb o'er the steeps, and thro' the dusky green Of olive groves, and orange bowers between, Speckled with glowing red, unnumber'd gleam— And Lisboa towering o'er the lordly stream Her marble palaces and temples spreads Wildly magnific o'er the loaded heads Of bending hills, along whose high-piled base The port capacious, in a moon'd embrace, Throws her mast-forest, waving on the gale The vanes of every shore that hoists the sail.


 * Here, while the Sun from Europe's breast retires,

Let Fancy, roaming as the scene inspires,

Pursue