She took, and plough’d the grove around,
With all its trees, a trench profound.
This done, she southward placed a rock
The billows’ utmost rage to mock:
Through the deep trench in rush’d the main,
And quicksands follow’d in its train.
With joy and pride her bosom swell’d,
When she her fav’rite grove beheld
Wash’d by the ocean’s azure spray:
Next towards the north she form’d a bay,