And, mingled oft with some wild eagle’s cry,
From rock-built eyrie rushing to the sky,
So deep the solemn and majestic sound
Of forests, and of waters murmuring round—
That, rapt in wondering awe, his heart forgets
Its fleeting struggles and its vain regrets.
—What earthly feeling unabash’d can dwell
In nature’s mighty presence?—midst the swell
Of everlasting hills, the roar of floods,
And frown of rocks, and pomp of waving woods?