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! sublime conceptions fill the soul,

When o'er the dawn-clad Tatra the rapt eye

Wanders;—all thought dissolv'd in sympathy,

And words unutter'd into silence roll!

How the heart heaves when thunder-storms eclipse

The sun, and century-rooted oaks uptear:

When Etna opens wide his fiery lips—

Turns pale the star-hair'd moon and shakes the sphere!

Yet this, and more than this, my soul can bear—

But not thine innocent look,—thy gentle smile—

What magic, might, and majesty, are there:

A trembling agitation shakes me, while

Confus'd amidst thy varied charms I see

The powers of earth and heaven all blent in thee.