My tumultuous bosom heave,
Like the rapt Sibyll’s when she feels the load,
The painful influence of th’ in-rushing God---
III.
Yes---once again with joy I find
20 (Nor think my friend th’ assertion bold)
This languid age-enfeebled mind,
As in life’s prime, it’s powers unfold---
Again th’ ideal scenes arise,
The visions stream before my eyes,