Whiten’d again the wilderness. They left
The dark Sierra’s skirts behind, and cross’d
The wilds where Ana in her native hills
Collects her sister springs, and hurries on
Her course melodious amid loveliest glens,
With forest and with fruitage overbower’d.
These scenes profusely blest by Heaven they left,
Where o’er the hazel and the quince the vine
Wide-mantling spreads; and clinging round the cork
And ilex, hangs amid their dusky leaves