The last remains of Sr John Suckling Being a Full collection Of all his Poems and Letters which have been so long expected, and never till now Published, with The Licence and Approbation of his Noble and Dearest friends |
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His Dream.
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 | The last remains of Sr John Suckling |  |
23
His Dream.
On a still silent night, scarce could I numberOne of the clock, but that a golden slumber
Had lockt my senses fast, and carried me
Into a world of blest felicitie,
I know not how: First to a Garden where
The Apricock, the Cherry, and the Peare,
The Strawberry, and Plumb, were fairer far
Then that eye-pleasing Fruit that caus'd the jar
Betwixt the Goddesses, and tempted more
Then fair Atlanta's Ball, though gilded ore.
I gaz'd a while on these, and presently
A Silver stream ran softly gliding by,
Upon whose banks, Lillies more white then snow
New faln from heaven, with Violets mixt, did grow;
Whose scent so chaf'd the neighbor air, that you
Would surely swear Arabick spices grew
Not far from thence, or that the place had been
With Musk prepar'd, to entertain Loves Queen.
Whilst I admir'd, the River past away,
And up a Grove did spring, green as in May,
When April had been moist: upon whose bushes
The pretty Robins, Nightingals, and Thrushes
Warbled their Notes so sweetly, that my ears
Did judge at least the musick of the Sphears.
But here my gentle Dream conveyed me
Into the place which I most long'd to see,
My Mistress bed; who, some few blushes past,
And smiling frowns, contented was at last
To let me touch her neck; I not content
With that, slipt to her breast, thence lower went,
And then—I awak'd.
J. S.
| The last remains of Sr John Suckling | |