Deep and ineffable, without alloy,
Hast thou benign conceded to my breast!
On summer nights, with brilliant hues impress’d,
’Tis sweet to break with sounding prow the wave
Of the dark surging sea, which shows behind
A lengthen’d streak of light the current gave.
’Tis sweet to bound where lofty mountains wind,
Or on thy steed to scour along the plain;
But sweeter to my fiery soul ’tis far
To feel myself whirl’d forward in the train