University of Virginia Library

A DREAM.

I found my eye-lids sliding close,
They softly touching lay,
When smoothly came the pleasing dose,
And stole my sight away
Then fancy plays in scenes of bliss,
Elysium's airy queen;
She wings the soul to taste and kiss
Of pleasures oft unseen.
Methought I heard the cooing dove,
In languid notes complain;
Methought I saw an angel move
Soft sliding o'er the plain.
Before mine eyes dissolving slew
A gently weeping cloud;
It's pensive bosom pond'rous grew
With wat'ry tempest proud.
Methought I walk'd in Eden's grove,
The air was soft and mild,
That all was beauty, all was love,
So sweetly nature smil'd.
The cooing dove was Celia's voice,
The angel Celia prov'd;
Her plaints that mask the pleasing noise,
Her form angelic mov'd.
The weeping cloud with tempest full,
Distilling drops of rain,
Was Celia's face, her eyes grown dull
With inward pensive pain.
But when she found her slumb'ring swain,
Her looks as Eden seem,
With eager joy, I clasp'd my love;
'Twas Celia, not a dream.