There are some sorts of beauty which defy description, and almost
scrutiny. Some faces rise upon us in the tumult of life, like stars from
out the sea, or as if they had moved out of a picture. Our first
impression is anything but fleshly. We are struck dumb--we gasp for
breath--our limbs quiver--a faintness glides over our frame--we are
awed; instead of gazing upon the apparition, we avert the eyes, which
yet will feed upon its beauty. A strange sort of unearthly pain mixes
with the intense pleasure. And not till, with a struggle, we call back
to our memory the commonplaces of existence, can we recover our
commonplace demeanor. These, indeed, are rare visions--these, indeed,
are early feelings, when our young existence leaps with its mountain
torrents; but as the river of our life rolls on, our eyes grow dimmer,
or our blood more cold.