Haste then, my friend, from scenes like these—
And scale the mountain’s airy height—
Inhale the morning’s balmy breeze,
And contemplate the landscape bright:—
That glorious view of hills and dales—
Of fertile plains and winding Rhine—
Of forests vast—romantic vales—
And slopes that “teem with corn and wine.”
Or hie thee to the healing wave,
By Heaven to suffering mortals sent—