Sonnet XIX: Farewell, Ye Coral Caves

Farewell, ye coral caves, ye pearly sands, Ye waving woods that crown yon lofty steep; Farewell, ye Nereides of the glitt'ring deep, Ye mountain tribes, ye fawns, ye sylvan bands: On the bleak rock your frantic minstrel stands, Each task forgot, save that, to sigh and weep; In vain the strings her burning fingers sweep, No more her touch, the Grecian Lyre commands! In Circe's cave my faithless Phaon's laid, Her daemons dress his brow with opiate flow'rs; Or, loit'ring in the brown pomgranate shade, Beguile with am'rous strains the fateful hours; While Sappho's lips, to paly ashes fade, And sorrow's cank'ring worm her heart devours!