_Edgar._--Come on, sir; here's the place:--stand Still.--How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eye so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles: halfway down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen that walk upon the beach Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark, Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge, That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more, Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong." [Illustration: DOVER. _KENT._] DOVER. Dover is in the county of Kent, and lies about seventy-two miles south-south-east of London. The town is situated in a valley, having on one side the cliffs on which Dover Castle is built, and on the other the eminence called the _Heights_; these are strongly fortified, and form the principal defence of the town and harbour. The greater part of the town lies on the western side of a small stream, called the Dour, which there discharges itself into the sea. The view in the Engraving is taken from the beach, on the eastern side of the harbour, looking towards the north-east. The row of houses seen extending in a line nearly parallel with the beach is called the Marine Parade; and, crowning the cliff, is perceived what of old was termed "the Key and Bar of England,"--Dover Castle. Its importance as a place of defence against the attacks of an invading enemy has, however, been seldom proved; and for the last three centuries the best defence of England against the invasion of her foes has been her wooden-walls. "Britannia needs no bulwark, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain wave, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy tempests blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow."