And where the Cynorrhodon[2] with the rose
For fragrance vies; for in the thirsty soil
Most fragrant breathe the aromatic tribes. 280
There bid thy roofs high on the basking steep
Ascend, there light thy hospitable fires.
And let them see the winter morn arise,
The summer evening blushing in the west;
While with umbrageous oaks the ridge behind 285
O’erhung, defends you from the blust’ring north,
And bleak affliction of the peevish east.