Emmeline Stuart-Wortley - The Heart lyrics

Deliver me from mine own dreams! but save From mine own thoughts; for these, too busy still, Fill up the mightiest measure of mine ill And form the darkest doom that I must brave! Deliverance, then, from these I deeply crave; But patience this must need, and power and sk**; For the great heart is cunning, and its will Right tyrannous! say who stoops not as its slave? The heart is as a giant in its might, And doth in mastery of its greatness tower, And riseth in its strength, to blast and blight! Heart, thou art a host of giants in thine hour! The pa**ions are thy warriors; and these fight As though their arms were storms, the thunder's conquering dower!