The Soul of Osiris

16 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. “ THE SONNET.” I. HE solemn hour, and the magnetic swoon Of midnight in a poet’s lonely hall ! Grave spirits answer (angels if he call) The invocations of his lofty tune. Thus in his measures nature craves the boon To be reflected ; and his rhymes appal Or charm mankind as tides that flow or fall, Waxes or wanes the tempestival moon. Her course is measured in the sonnet’s tether, Waxes the eight-fold ecstasy ; exceeds The minor sestet, where some passion bleeds Or truth discourses : or eclipse may end, Proof against thought ; but if man comprehend The stars in all their stations sing together. II. What power or fascination can there lie In this fair garden of the straight-kept rows, The sonnet ? Surely some archangel knows Why, having written in mere ecstasy T