LV.

There the large olive rains its amber store In marble fonts; there grain, and flower, and fruit, Gush from the earth until the land runs o'er;[243] But there, too, many a poison-tree has root, And Midnight listens to the lion's roar, And long, long deserts scorch the camel's foot, Or heaving whelm the helpless caravan; And as the soil is, so the heart of man.