Old Poem - Story of Belfast
An Amphitheatre more grand,
Graces no part of Europe's land—
Where Neptune's elbow intervenes
To help the variegated scenes.
And over all the Hill of Caves,
With what a bold majestic pride
As if it heaven and earth defied,
The Fort looks o'er the space between,
To hills of yellow, red and green,
Even to old Scotia's craggy hills,
Chequered with sheep, cascades and rills,
To Carrick strongly fortified,
Defying French, and wind and tide,
And to Slieve Donard's airy height,
Which bounds the wearying southern height,
—Like Nature's beautified demesne.—
Those waving hills—that chequered plain,—
Thanks to thy stars, thou Queen of Towns,
Confirmed success thy labour crowns.