[From Ernest von Hermanstadt]; Action-action in the sunshine-passion-but little feeling, and less thought: such was meant to be our existence. But we refine-we sadden and we subdue-we call up the hidden and evil spirits of the inner world-we wake from their dark repose those who will madden us. The heart is like the wood on yonder flickering hearth: green and fresh, haunted by a thousand sweet odours, bathed in the warm air, and gladdened by the summer sunshine-so grew it at first upon its native soil. But nature submitteth to art, and man has appointed for it another destiny: it is gathered, and cast into the fire. It seems, then, as if its life had but just begun. A new spirit has crept into the kindled veins-a brilliant light dances around it-it is bright-it is beautiful-and it is consumed! What remains?-A warmth on the atmosphere soon passing away, and a heap of blackened ashes! What more will remain of the heart? (Letitia Elizabeth Landon)

[From Ernest von Hermanstadt]; Action-action in the sunshine-passion-but little feeling, and less thought: such was meant to be our existence. But we refine-we sadden and we subdue-we call up the hidden and evil spirits of the inner world-we wake from their dark repose those who will madden us. The heart is like the wood on yonder flickering hearth: green and fresh, haunted by a thousand sweet odours, bathed in the warm air, and gladdened by the summer sunshine-so grew it at first upon its native soil. But nature submitteth to art, and man has appointed for it another destiny: it is gathered, and cast into the fire. It seems, then, as if its life had but just begun. A new spirit has crept into the kindled veins-a brilliant light dances around it-it is bright-it is beautiful-and it is consumed! What remains?-A warmth on the atmosphere soon passing away, and a heap of blackened ashes! What more will remain of the heart?

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

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