 | The Legend of St. Loy
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III.
“Hermit, of yellow locks of youth!
“Hath not this cell the power to sooth
“The passions of the world?
“Where roved thy thoughts? Oh, on the blast
“Was thy wild soul at random cast?
“And on the tempest hurled?
“Son of fond Fancy, Child of Song,
“No Bard, with soul of fire,
“Burns with more raptures, or more strong,
“Though prophet of the lyre.
“Nor grey thy head, nor thick thy beard;
“But yet, from what I've seen and heard,
“Since thou hast here my brother been
“In this deep loneliness, I ween,
“That thou hast grown old in youth, and Heaven
“Hath such experience to thee given
“Of sorrows, as may well compare
“With Eld's accumulated share.
| The Legend of St. Loy
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