First springs the Nile; here bursts the sounding Po 360
In angry waves; Euphrates hence devolves
A mighty flood to water half the East;
And there, in Gothic solitude reclin’d,
The chearless Tanais pours his hoary urn.
What solemn twilight! What stupendous shades 365
Enwarp these infant floods! Thro’ every nerve
A sacred horror thrills, a pleasing fear
Glides o’er my frame. The forest deepens round;
And more gigantic still th’ impending trees