A glorious amphitheatre, whose girth Exceeds three-fold th’ horizons of the north, Mixing our pleasure in a goblet wide, With hard, firm rim through clear air far-descried; Illumined mountains, on whose heavenly slopes, Quick, busy shades rehearse, while Phœbus drops, Dramatic parts in scenic mysteries; Far-shadowing islands, and exulting seas With cities girt, that catch, till day is done, Successive glances from the circling sun, And cast a snowy gleam across the blue:— A gulf that, to its lakelike softness true, Reveres the stillness of the syren’s cell, Yet knows the ocean’s roll, and loves it well; A gulf where Zephyr oft, with noontide heat Oppressed, descends to bathe his sacred feet, And, at the first cold touch, at once reviving, Sinks to the wings in joy, before him driving A feathery foam into the lemon groves;— Evasive, zone-like sands and secret coves; Translucent waves that, heaved with motion slow, On fanes submerged a brighter gleam bestow; Fair hamlets, streets with odorous myrtles spread, Bruised by processions grave with soundless tread, That leave (the Duomo entered) on the mind A pomp confused, and music on the wind; Smooth, mounded banks like inland coasts and capes, That take from seas extinct their sinuous shapes, And girdle plains whose growths, fire-fed below, In bacchanal exuberance burst and blow; A light Olympian and an air divine— Naples! if these are blessings, they are thine. II.