Its map of field, wood, hamlet, is unrolled,
While in the east the sun uprears his locks of gold,—
Till earth receive him, never can forget.
Even when returned amid the city’s roar,
The fairy vision haunts his memory yet,
As in the sailor’s fancy shines the shore.
Imagination cons the moment o’er,
When first-discovered, awe-struck and amazed,
Scarce loftier Jove—whom men and Gods adore—
On the extended earth beneath him gazed,