O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!

        Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away!
        Leave melodizing on this wintry day,
    Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute:
    Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute,
        Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay
        Must I burn through; once more humbly assay
    The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit.
    Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion,
        Begetters of our deep eternal theme,
    When through the old oak forest I am gone,
        Let me not wander in a barren dream,
    But when I am consumed in the fire,
    Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire.

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