Thou who such weary Length hast past, <br />Where wilt thou rest, mad Nymph, at last? <br />Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted Cell, <br />Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell? <br />Or in some hollow'd Seat, <br />'Gainst which the big Waves beat, <br />Hear drowning Sea-men's Cries in Tempests brought! <br />Dark Pow'r, with shudd'ring meek submitted Thought <br />Be mine, to read the Visions old, <br />Which thy awak'ning Bards have told: <br />And lest thou meet my blasted View, <br />Hold each strange Tale devoutly true; <br />Ne'er be I found, by Thee o'eraw'd, <br />In that thrice-hallow'd Eve abroad, <br />When Ghosts, as Cottage-Maids believe, <br />Their pebbled Beds permitted leave, <br />And Gobblins haunt from Fire, or Fen, <br />Or Mine, or Flood, the Walks of Men! <br /> O Thou whose Spirit most possest <br />The sacred Seat of Shakespear's Breast! <br />By all that from thy Prophet broke, <br />In thy Divine Emotions spoke: <br />Hither again thy Fury deal, <br />Teach me but once like Him to feel: <br />His Cypress Wreath my Meed decree, <br />And I, O Fear, will dwell with Thee!<br /><br />William Taylor Collins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/antistrophe/
