How the mind is raised to the sublime

They who never felt that kind of enthusiasm, which Aristotle, and Longinus mention, as necessary to succeed in poetry, and produce the sublime in writing, will be little the better informed, from what may be said, to give an idea of it. He, who can behold without emotion, and surprise the more noble works of nature, and of art, will gain, even from the most expressive words, and strongest terms, but a very faint notion of what is not so easily described, or taught, as conceived by a mind truly disposed for the perception of that, which is great and marvellous.

All the vast, and wonderful scenes, either of delight, or horror, which the universe affords, have this effect upon the imagination, such as unbounded prospects, particularly that of the ocean, in its different situations of agitation, or repose; the rising and setting sun; the solemnity of moon light; all the phenomena in the heavens, and objects of astronomy. We are moved in the same manner by the view of dreadful precipices; great ruins; subterraneous caverns, and the operations of nature in those dark recesses. The like is often produced by that greatness, which results from the ornaments, and magnificence of architecture; the sight of numerous armies, and assemblies of people. We are no less inspired, if it may be so called, by that kind of ardour from the charms of beauty, or the resemblance of beautiful persons, and things in fine statues, or paintings.