Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/178

174 And soon I stood before a listening throng—
 * Eager to criticise, to praise, deride—

And poured the fervor forth, restrained so long,
 * In one impassioned and impetuous tide.

there is nothing upon earth more proud.
 * More high, more flattering to the swelling soul,

Than to chain every passion of the crowd.
 * And with one word their sympathies control!

To feel that you can sway them with a breath!
 * And bind them with the mighty thoughts you make!

To awe them into silence deep as death.
 * Or from their lips responsive echoes wake!

To hear a thousand tongues one answer speak!
 * To make a thousand weep with one low tone!

To see the changing of each earnest cheek.
 * Which flushes or grows paler with your own!

"Yes! there is glorious triumph in that hour,
 * That would the wildest dream of fame repay—

Thus to feel conscious of your own great power.
 * And thus with burning eloquence to sway

The hearts of others, as the waves obey
 * The wind that stirs them! while beneath your eye

All passions and all feelings powerless lay.
 * Moved by the lifting of your hand on high!

And I have felt this triumph! have seen all
 * Hang eager on the dropping of a word.

With such a silence through the lofty hall,
 * That scarce a breath the intense stillness stirred!

Have stood, and with a motion or a word
 * Hushed each heart-throbbing, fixed each careless eye!

The shout of the tumultuous band have heard
 * Swell upward wild and deaf'ning to the sky!

But when I stole away from their acclaim.
 * And sought my silent chamber, lone and still,