Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet VII

COME, reason, come! each nerve rebellious bind,
Lull the fierce tempest of my fev'rish soul ;
Come, with the magic of thy meek control,
And check the wayward wand'rings of my mind :
Estrang'd from thee, no solace can I find ;
O'er 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 her store,
O'erwhelm'd is ev'ry source of pure delight ;
Dim is the golden page of wisdom's lore;
All nature fades before my sick'ning sight :
For what bright scene can fancy's eye explore
'Midst dreary labyrinths of mental night ?