Sappho and Phaon, by Mary Robinson, , at sacred-texts.com
Come, Reason, come! each nerve rebellious bind,
Lull the fierce tempest of my fevrish soul;
Come, with the magic of thy meek controul,
And check the wayward wandrings of my mind:
Estrangd from thee, no solace can I find,
Oer my rapt brain, where pensive visions stole,
Now passion reigns and stormy tumults roll
So the smooth Sea obeys the furious wind!
In vain Philosophy unfolds his store,
Oerwhelmd is evry source of pure delight;
Dim is the golden page of wisdoms lore;
All nature fades before my sickning sight:
For what bright scene can fancys eye explore,
Midst dreary labyrinths of mental night?