To kiss the sloping hills, and myrtle boughs,
And flowers, and streams, and Lesbian maiden’s brows,
As they were warbling ’long the sultry vale
Like blithesome birds, or lisping some love tale:
Slowly he sunk, while far the deep waves rolled
Beneath his fiery track, like molten gold;
The spire, and minaret from the distant dome,
And castle hoar, and fane, and royal home;
The olive grove, the dark majestic palm,
The cypress sadd’ning in the pensive calm,