“The raptur’d eye now wanders round
The circling stretch of distant ground,
Where fading mountains crown the scene,
With many a fertile vale between—
Where sporting with the solar beams,
Famed Tamar winds her wanton streams,
And deck’d with villas, forts, and towns,
With woods and pastures, hills and downs,
With docks and navies—England’s pride—
And lighter barks that swiftly glide.”