Lead me, Sicilian Maids, to haunted bowers, While yon pale moon displays her faintest beams O'er blasted woodlands, and enchanted streams, Whose banks infect the breeze with poisonous flowers. Ah! lead me, where the barren mountain towers, Where no sounds echo, but the night-owl's screams, Where some lone spirit of the desert gleams, And lurid horrors wing the fateful hours! Now goaded frenzy grasps my shrinking brain, Her touch absorbs the crystal fount of woe! My blood rolls burning through each gasping vein; Away, lost Lyre! unless thou can'st bestow A charm, to lull that agonizing pain, Which those who never loved, can never know! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER HOUSE ARREST IN WINDSOR by HENRY HOWARD THE BURNING OF THE TEMPLE by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE MAID OF NEIDPATH by WALTER SCOTT LA VILLE DU DETROIT by LEVI BISHOP HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 4 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH JOSEPH'S REFORM (A TALE OF THE HOT DOG TAVERN) by BERTON BRALEY |