Poem by Mary Robinson

Sonnet 7. Come, Reason, Come!

Come, Reason, come! each nerve rebellious bind,
Lull the fierce tempest of my fev’rish soul;
Come, with the magic of thy meek controul,
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 his 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?

1. Elegy to the Memory of David Garrick, Esq.
2. Sonnet 14. Come, Soft Aeolian Harp
3. Sonnet 27. Oh! Ye Bright Stars
4. Sonnet 34. Venus! To Thee
5. The Confessor, a Sanctified Tale

Print

1604 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version