XVIII.

Poor, paltry slaves! yet born 'midst noblest scenes-- Why, Nature, waste thy wonders on such men? Lo! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes[45] In variegated maze of mount and glen. Ah, me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen, To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken[ay] Than those whereof such things the Bard relates, Who to the awe-struck world unlocked Elysium's gates.