On yon domain, surnamed the “Chase,”
And from the bank five furlongs’ space,
Standing in a pleasant spot,
’Rises gentle Bouchier’s[18] cot,—
Directed, east, towards a vale;
And west, beshelter’d from the gale.
From this rude cluster,[19] miles away,
Hills, dells, and woodlands greet the eye;
None can prize it, as it should,
’Less upon the rock they’ve stood: