Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet XI

O ! REASON ! vaunted sov'reign of the mind !
Thou pompous vision with a sounding name !
Can'st thou the soul's rebellious passions tame ?
Can'st thou in spells the vagrant fancy bind?
Ah, no ! capricious as the wav'ring wind
Are sighs of love that dim thy boasted flame ;
While folly's torch consumes the wreath of fame,
And pleasure's hands the sheaves of truth unbind.
Press'd by the storms of fate, hope shrinks and dies !
Frenzy darts forth in mightiest ills array'd ;
Around thy throne destructive tumults rise,
And hell-fraught jealousies thy rights invade !
Then, what art thou, O ! idol of the wise ?
A visionary theme ! — a gorgeous shade !