Page:Elegiac Sonnets and Other Essays The Second Edition.pdf/38

[  24    ] SONNET, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY WERTER. O, cruel tyrant of the human breast!
 * To other hearts they burning arrows bear;

Go where fond hope and fair illusion rest;
 * Ah! why should love inhabit with despair!

Like the poor maniac* I linger here,
 * Still haunt the scene where all my treasure lies;

Still seek for flowers where only thorns appear,
 * And drink delicious poison from her eyes.

Towards the deep gulph that opens on my fight
 * I hurry forward, passion's helpless slave;

And, scorning reason's mild and sober light,
 * Pursue the path that leads me to the grave.

So round the flame the giddy insect flies, And courts the fatal fire by which it dies.
 * See the story of the lunatic. SONNET,