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"Bright was the spot!
and still we lingered on
Unwearied, till the summer-day was done;
Till He, who, when the morning dew was wet,
In glory rose - in equal glory set.
Fair sank his light, unclouded to the last,
And o'er that land its glow of beauty cast;
And the sweet breath of evening air went forth
To cool the bosom of the fainting earth;
To bid the pale-leaved olives lightly wave
Upon their seaward slope (whose waters lave
With listless gentleness the golden strand,
And scarcely leave, and scarce return to land);
Or with its wings of freshness, wandering round,
Visit the heights with many a villa crowned,
Where the still pine and cypress, side by side,
Look from their distant hills on Ocean's tide.
"The cypress and the pine! Ah, still I see
These thy green children, lovely Italy!
Nature's dear favourites, allowed to wear
Their summer hue throughout the circling year!
And oft, when wandering out at even-time
To watch the sunsets of a colder clime,
As the dim landscape fades and grows more faint,
Fancy's sweet power a different scene shall paint;
Enrich with deeper tints the colours given
To the pale beauty of our English heaven, -
Bid purple mountains rise among the clouds,
Or deem their mass some marble palace shrouds, -
Trace on the red horizon's level line,
In outlines dark, the high majestic pine, -
And hear, amid the groups of English trees,
His sister cypress murmuring to the breeze!
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