Dark elms around the constant herons bred;
Those the marsh dykes, the neighbouring ocean, fed;
Rocks near the coast no shipping would allow,
And stubborn heath around forbad the plough;
Dull must the scene have been in years of old,
But now was wildly dismal to behold—
One level sadness! marsh, and heath, and sea,
And, save these high dark elms, nor plant nor tree. 410
In this bleak ruin Villars found a room,
Square, small, and lofty—seat of grief and gloom.