Lift high their heads as here with us,
Nor dales nor glens nor darksome gorges,
25 Nor caves nor crags; nor occur there ever
Anything rough; but under radiant skies
Flourish the fields in flowers and blossoms.
This lovely land lieth higher
By twelve full fathoms, as famous writers,
30 As sages say and set forth in books,
Than any of the hills that here with us
Rise bright and high under heaven’s stars.