Its uplands sloping deck the mountain’s side,
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride;
While oft some temple’s mouldering tops between
With venerable grandeur mark the scene. 110
Could nature’s bounty satisfy the breast,
The sons of Italy were surely blest.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, 115
Whose bright succession decks the varied year;