Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/178

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"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,