Must it ever be thus,--that the source of our happiness must also be
the fountain of our misery? The full and ardent sentiment which
animated my heart with the love of Nature, overwhelming me with a
torrent of delight, and which brought all paradise before me, has now
become an insupportable torment,--a demon which perpetually pursues and
harasses me. When in by-gone days I gazed from these rocks upon yonder
mountains across the river, and upon the green, flowery valley before
me, and saw all Nature budding and bursting around; the hills clothed
from foot to peak with tall, thick forest trees; the valleys in all
their varied windings, shaded with the loveliest woods; and the soft
river gliding along amongst the lisping reeds, mirroring the beautiful
clouds which the soft evening breeze wafted across the sky,--when I
heard the groves about me melodious with the music of birds, and saw
the million swarms of insects dancing in the last golden beams of the
sun, whose setting rays awoke the humming beetles from their grassy
beds, whilst the subdued tumult around directed my attention to the
ground, and I there observed the arid rock compelled to yield nutriment
to the dry moss, whilst the heath flourished upon the barren sands
below me,--all this displayed to me the inner warmth which animates all
nature, and filled and glowed within my heart. I felt myself exalted by
this overflowing fulness to the perception of the Godhead, and the
glorious forms of an infinite universe became visible to my soul!
Stupendous mountains encompassed me, abysses yawned at my feet, and
cataracts fell headlong down before me; impetuous rivers rolled through
the plain, and rocks and mountains resounded from afar. In the depths
of the earth I saw innumerable powers in motion, and multiplying to
infinity; whilst upon its surface, and beneath the heavens, there
teemed ten thousand varieties of living creatures. Everything around is
alive with an infinite number of forms; while mankind fly for security
to their petty houses, from the shelter of which they rule in their
imaginations over the wide-extended universe. Poor fool! in whose petty
estimation all things are little. From the inaccessible mountains,
across the desert which no mortal foot has trod, far as the confines of
the unknown ocean, breathes the spirit of the eternal Creator; and
every atom to which he has given existence finds favour in his sight.
Ah, how often at that time has the flight of a bird, soaring above my
head, inspired me with the desire of being transported to the shores of
the immeasurable waters, there to quaff the pleasures of life from the
foaming goblet of the Infinite, and to partake, if but for a moment
even, with the confined powers of my soul, the beatitude of that
Creator who accomplishes all things in himself, and through himself!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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