The shore let her transcend, the[59] promont to descry,
And view about the point th’ unnumbred fowl that fly;
Some rising like a storm from off the troubled sand,
Seem in their hov’ring flight to shadow all the land;
Some sitting on the beach to prune their painted breasts,
As if both earth and air they only did possess;
Whence climbing to the cliffs, herself she firmly sets
The bourns, the brooks, the becks, the rills, the rivulets,
Exactly to derive; receiving in her way
That streightned tongue of land, where at Mount-Michael’s bay,