Her feathered tribes round beak and headland glide,
Her scaly broods leap from the glassy tide.
LXV.
Out from Aquidnay tow’rd the setting sun,
Spread the calm waters like a sea of gold
Studded with isles, till Narraganset dun
Fringed the far west, and cape and headland bold,
With forest shagged, cast their huge shadows down,
And glassed them in the wave; while silence old
Resumed her reign, save that by times did rise,