.
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise."

The fitting description of scenes and incidents of grandeur imparts
dignity and charm to a production. Grandeur is of two kinds: first, the
grandeur or sublimity of natural objects, such as the ocean, a storm, an
earthquake, or other exhibitions of tremendous power; and secondly, the
moral sublime, in which the heroic soul rises superior to dangers and
death. Milton's "Paradise Lost" abounds in grave and sublime passages.
Byron reaches the sublime in many of the descriptions of "Childe
Harold," of which the following will serve for illustration:

"Far along
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue,
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud."

Perhaps no finer instance of the moral sublime is to be found than in
the bearing of Luther before the Imperial Diet in the city of Worms. He
was confronted by the chief dignitaries of Church and Empire. The
emperor himself, Charles V, was present. "Will you, or will you not,
retract?" solemnly demanded the speaker of the Diet. "Unless," replied
the intrepid reformer, "unless I am convinced by the testimony of Holy
Scripture or by clear and indisputable reasoning, I cannot, and will
not, retract anything; for it is unsafe for a Christian to do anything
against his conscience. Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise, God help
me. Amen!"

Another source of beauty is found in tenderness and pathos. These
feelings appeal to the gentler side of our nature. The pathos may arise
from various causes,--from bereaved affection, from fond memories, from
sore disappointments, or from helpless suffering. Every one is familiar
with Dickens's description of the death of little Nell in "Old Curiosity
Shop." Irving's story of "The Broken Heart" is deeply pathetic. The
deathbed scene of Colonel Newcome in Thackeray's great novel is notable
for its simple pathos: "At the usual evening hour the chapel bell began
to toll, and Thomas Newcome's hands outside the bed feebly beat time.
And just as the last bell struck, a peculiar sweet smile shone over his
face, and he lifted up his head a little