Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet V

OH ! HOW can love exulting reason quell !
How fades each nobler passion from his gaze !
E'en fame, that cherishes the poet's lays,
That fame ill-fated Sappho lov'd so well.
Lost is the wretch, who in his fatal spell
Wastes the short summer of delicious days,
And from the tranquil path of wisdom strays,
In passion's thorny wild forlorn to dwell.
O ye ! who in that sacred temple smile
Where holy innocence resides enshrin'd ;
Who fear not sorrow, and who know not guile,
Each thought compos'd, and ev'ry wish resign'd ;
Tempt not the path where pleasure's flowry wile
In sweet but, poisonous fetters, holds the mind.