With crofts and cottages between:
The various landscape onward spreads
O’er cultur’d plains and verdant meads;
And seats, and towns, and hamlets rise,
Where yon smoke curls into the skies,
And spires, that pierce thro’ tufted trees;
Till, faintly fading by degrees,
Beyond, in wild confusion tost,
The hills blue tops in clouds are lost.
Yes, Eaton-Banks, in vain I strive[[29]]