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O
golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!
Fair plumed
Syren! Queen of far away!
Leave melodizing on this
wintry day,
Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute.
Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute
Betwixt
damnation and impassioned clay
Must I burn through;
once more humbly assay
The bitter-sweet of this
Shakespearian fruit.
Chief Poet! and ye clouds of
Albion,
Begetters of our deep eternal theme,
When
through the old oak Forest I am gone,
Let me not
wander in a barren dream,
But when I am consumed in
the Fire,
Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my
desire.
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