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.
