Their forfeitable cargo, rundlets small,
Together link’d upon their cable’s length,
And to the shelving bottom sunk and fixt
By stony weights; till happier hour arrive
To land it on the vacant beach unrisk’d.
But what is yonder Hill[11], whose dusky brow
Wears, like a regal diadem, the round
Of ancient battlements and ramparts high,
And frowns upon the vales? I know thee not—
Thou hast no name, no honourable note,