It is true, we are such poor navigators that our thoughts, for the most part, stand off and on upon a harborless coast, are conversant only with the bights of the bays of poesy, or steer for the public ports of entry, and go into the dry docks of science, where they merely refit for this world, and no natural currents concur to individualize them. [Please select]
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North of the "heel" of Italy extends an almost harborless coast, where nothing tempted the Greeks to settle. [Please select]
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