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Letters on Sweden, Norway, and Denmark by Mary Wollstonecraft
page 48 of 177 (27%)
odour of the pine woods became more perceptible, for it was nine
o'clock when we left Fredericshall. At the ferry we were detained
by a dispute relative to our Swedish passport, which we did not
think of getting countersigned in Norway. Midnight was coming on,
yet it might with such propriety have been termed the noon of night
that, had Young ever travelled towards the north, I should not have
wondered at his becoming enamoured of the moon. But it is not the
Queen of Night alone who reigns here in all her splendour, though
the sun, loitering just below the horizon, decks her within a golden
tinge from his car, illuminating the cliffs that hide him; the
heavens also, of a clear softened blue, throw her forward, and the
evening star appears a smaller moon to the naked eye. The huge
shadows of the rocks, fringed with firs, concentrating the views
without darkening them, excited that tender melancholy which,
sublimating the imagination, exalts rather than depresses the mind.

My companions fell asleep--fortunately they did not snore; and I
contemplated, fearless of idle questions, a night such as I had
never before seen or felt, to charm the senses, and calm the heart.
The very air was balmy as it freshened into morn, producing the most
voluptuous sensations. A vague pleasurable sentiment absorbed me,
as I opened my bosom to the embraces of nature; and my soul rose to
its Author, with the chirping of the solitary birds, which began to
feel, rather than see, advancing day. I had leisure to mark its
progress. The grey morn, streaked with silvery rays, ushered in the
orient beams (how beautifully varying into purple!), yet I was sorry
to lose the soft watery clouds which preceded them, exciting a kind
of expectation that made me almost afraid to breathe, lest I should
break the charm. I saw the sun--and sighed.

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