- Project Runeberg -  Letters written during a short residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark /
76

(1889) [MARC] Author: Mary Wollstonecraft With: Henry Morley
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taking its flight with fairy wing, to the misty
mountains which bounded the prospect, fancy tripped ovor
now lawns, more beautiful even than the lovely slopes
on the winding shore before me. I pause, again
breathless, to trace, with renewed delight, sentiments which
entranced me, when, turning my humid eyes from the
expanse below to the vault above, my sight pierced the
fleecy clouds that softened the azure brightness; and
imperceptibly recalling the reveries of childhood, I
bowed before the awful throne of my Creator, whilst
I rested on its footstool.

You have sometimes wondered, my dear friend, at
the extreme affection of my nature. But such is the
temperature of my soul. It is not the vivacity of youth,
the heyday of existence. For years have I
endeavoured to calm an impetuous tide, labouring to make
my feelings take an orderly course. It was striving
against the stream. I must love and admire with
warmth, or I sink into sadness. Tokens of love which
I have received have wrapped me in Elysium,
purifying the heart they enchanted. My bosom still glows.
Do not saucily ask, repeating Sterne’s question,
"Maria, is it still so warm?" Sufficiently, O my
God! has it been chilled by sorrow and unkindness;
still nature will prevail; and if I blush at recollecting
past enjoyment, it is the rosy hue of pleasure
heightened by modesty, for the blush of modesty and shame
are as distinct as the emotions by which they are
produced.

I need scarcely inform you, after telling you of my
walks, that my constitution has been renovated here,

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