"Though the arts of peace were unknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive with men; its shades and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoes of its mountains threw back the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry, of many a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by them, in the noontide of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness." ~~ James Fenimore Cooper from The Last of the Mohicans (The Leatherstocking Tales Book 2), Chapter One
I haven't read The Last of the Mohicans in a long time, but it is full of sentences like this one that I particularly like. I don't, however, like all of those superfluous commas in the latter part of the sentence, but I will forgive him. I like the choice of words here and the imagery of "in the noontide of his spirits to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness."
I really must read this book again soon.