Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/96

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80

TO THE

CHAPEL BELL.



"Lo I, the man who erst the Muse did ask
Her deepest notes to swell the Patriot's meeds,
Am now enforced, a far unfitter task,
For cap and gown to leave my minstrel weeds;"
For yon dull noise that tinkles on the air
Bids me lay by the lyre and go to morning prayer.

Oh how I hate the sound! it is the Knell
That still a requiem tolls to Comfort's hour;
And loth am I, at Superstition's bell,
To quit or Morpheus or the Muse's bower:
Better to lie and dose, than gape amain,
Hearing still mumbled o'er, the same eternal strain.