Nature Is The Nurse Of Sentiment, The True Source Of Taste; Yet What
Misery, As Well As Rapture, Is Produced
By a quick perception of the
beautiful and sublime when it is exercised in observing animated
nature, when every beauteous
Feeling and emotion excites responsive
sympathy, and the harmonised soul sinks into melancholy or rises to
ecstasy, just as the chords are touched, like the AEolian harp
agitated by the changing wind. But how dangerous is it to foster
these sentiments in such an imperfect state of existence, and how
difficult to eradicate them when an affection for mankind, a passion
for an individual, is but the unfolding of that love which embraces
all that is great and beautiful!
When a warm heart has received strong impressions, they are not to
be effaced. Emotions become sentiments, and the imagination renders
even transient sensations permanent by fondly retracing them. I
cannot, without a thrill of delight, recollect views I have seen,
which are not to be forgotten, nor looks I have felt in every nerve,
which I shall never more meet. The grave has closed over a dear
friend, the friend of my youth. Still she is present with me, and I
hear her soft voice warbling as I stray over the heath. Fate has
separated me from another, the fire of whose eyes, tempered by
infantine tenderness, still warms my breast; even when gazing on
these tremendous cliffs sublime emotions absorb my soul. And, smile
not, if I add that the rosy tint of morning reminds me of a
suffusion which will never more charm my senses, unless it reappears
on the cheeks of my child.
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