Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view;

Unseen is Yanina, though not remote,

Veiled by the screen of hills: here men are few,

Scanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot:

But, peering down each precipice, the goat[fc]

Browseth; and, pensive o'er his scattered flock,

The little shepherd in his white capote [24.B.]

Doth lean his boyish form along the rock,

Or in his cave awaits the Tempest's short-lived shock.[fd]