by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Eyes that have ach'd with Sorrow! Ye shall weep
Tears of doubt-mingled joy, like theirs who start
From Precipices of distemper'd sleep,
(On which the fierce-eyed Fiends their revels keep),
And see the rising Sun, and feel it dart
New rays of pleasance trembling to the heart.
(see, so it's really like waking from a nightmare -- from "Precipices of distemper'd sleep" -- and seeing a brand new day bringing "new rays of pleasance trembling to the heart.").