Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet XLII

WHILE from the dizzy precipice I gaze,
The world receding from my pensive eyes,
High o'er my head the tyrant eagle flies,
Cloth'd in the sinking sun's transcendent blaze!
The meek-ey'd moon, 'midst clouds of amber plays
As o'er the purpling plains of light she hies,
Till the last stream of living lustre dies,
And the cool concave owns her temper'd rays !
So shall this glowing, palpitating soul,
Welcome returning reason's placid beam,
While o'er my breast the waves Lethean roll,
To calm rebellious fancy's fev'rish dream;
Then shall my lyre disdain love's dread control,
And loftier passions prompt the loftier theme !