On a neat harbor and a lively town.
Apart, ’mid screen of trees, it stands, just where
We see the popular bustle, but not share.
Full in our front is spread a varied scene—
A royal ruin, gray, or clothed with green,
Church spires, tower, docks, streets, terraces, and trees,
Back’d by green fields, which mount by due degrees
Into brown uplands, stretching high away
To where, by silent tarns, the wild deer stray.
Below, with gentle tide, the Atlantic Sea