Of fond expression, but a rapture true
Claspt all the spirit in a dreamy fold
Of ecstasy and gold.
Until, through shady ranges of tall trees,
Threaded by every breeze,
And well-determined beds of every hue,
Orange, vermeil, and blue,
A central, templed hill, was near espied,
Down-slanting to the sea on every side,
With greensward terraces and blooming meet,