With rapture we the golden view embrace:
Then worshiping the sun on silver floods,
And blazing towers, and spires, and cities bright
With his reflected beams; and down the slopes
The tumbling torrents; from the forest-mass
Of darkness issuing, we with double force
Along the gayly-checker’d landscape pass,
And, bounding with delight, pursue our course.
It is a mingled rapture, and we find
The bodily spirit mounting to the mind.