Chapter V

Thence let me view the plains below,
From rough St. Julian's rugged brow;
Hear the loud torrents swift descending,
Or mark the beauteous rainbow bending,
Till Heaven regains its favourite hue,
Æther divine! celestial blue!
Then bosom'd high in myrtle bower,
View letter'd Pisa's pendent tower;
The sea's wide scene, the port's loud throng,
Of rude and gentle, right and wrong;
A motley groupe which yet agree
To call themselves SOCIETY.