The jutting shores that swell on either side
Contract its mouth, and break the rushing tide.
Our eager sailors seize the fair retreat,
And bound within the port their crowded fleet:
For here retired the sinking billows sleep,
And smiling calmness silver’d o er the deep.
I only in the bay refused to moor,
And fix’d, without, my haisers to the shore.
From thence we climb’d a point, whose airy brow
Commands the prospect of the plains below: