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The Whole Works of William Browne

of Tavistock ... Now first collected and edited, with a memoir of the poet, and notes, by W. Carew Hazlitt, of the Inner Temple

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ON A DREAME.
  
  
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ON A DREAME.

Vaine dreames, forbeare, ye but deceiuers be;
For as, in flattering glasses, women see
More beauty then possesse, so I in you
Haue all I can desire, but no thing true.
Who would be rich, to be soe but an howre,
Eates a sweet fruite, to rellish more the soure;
If, but to lose againe, we things possesse,
Nere to be happy is a happines.
Men walking in the pitchye shades of night
Can keepe their certeyne way, but if a light
Oretake, & leaue them, they are blinded more,
And doubtfull goe, that went secure before:
For this (though hardly) I haue ofte forborne
To see her face faire as the rosye Morne;
Yet mine owne thoughts in night such Traytors be,
That they betray me to that miserie.
Then thinke no more of her! as soon I may
Command the sun to robbe vs of a day;
Or with a sive repell a liquid streame,
As lose such thoughts or hinder but a Dreame.
The lightsome ayre as easye hinder can
A glasse to take the forme of any man

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That stands before it, as or time or place
Can draw a vayle betweene me & her face;
Yet by such thoughts my Torments howrely strive;
For, as a prisoner by his prospective,
By them I am inform'd of what I want:
I envy none now but the ignorant.
He that nere saw of whom I dream'd last night,
Is one borne blynd, that knowes no want of light;
He that nere kist these lipps, yet saw her eyes,
Is Adam living still in Paradise.
But if he taste those sweets (as haples I)
He knowes his want & meets his miserie:
An Indian rude that neuer heard one sing
A heauenly sonnet to a siluer string,
Nor other sounds, but what confused heards
In pathles deserts make, or brooks, or Birds,
Should he heare Syms the sweet pandora touch
And loose his heareing, streight he would as much
Lament his knowledge, as doe I my chance,
And wish he still had liv'd in ignorance.
I am that Indian, and my soothing Dreames
In thirst haue brought me but to painted streames,
Which not allaye, but more increase desire.
A man, nere frozen with December's ire,
Hath from a heape of glowwormes as much ease,
As I can euer haue by such as these.
O leave me then! & strongest Memorie,
Keepe still with those that promise breakers be:
Goe! bid the Debtor mind his payment day,
Or helpe the ignorant-deuout to saye
Prayers they vnderstand not. Leade the Blynde,
And bid ingratefull wretches call to minde
Their Benefactors. And if vertue be
(As still she is) trod downe with miserie,
Shew her the Rich that they may free her want,
And leaue to nurse the fawning sycophant:

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Or if thou seest faire honor careles lye
Without a Tombe, for after memorye,
Dwell by the graue, & teach all those that passe
To imitate, by shewing who it was.
This way, remembrance, thou mayest doe some good,
And haue due thankes; but he that vnderstood
What throes thou bringst on me, would say I misse
The sleepe of him that did the pale moone kisse,
And that it were a blessing throwne on mee,
Somtimes to haue the hated Lethargie.
Then, darke forgetfulnes, that onely art
The friend of Lunatiques, seize on that part
Of Memorie which nightly shewes her me,
Or suffer still her wakeing Fantasie,
Euen at the instant that I dreame of her,
To dreame the like of me, that we may err
In pleasures endles Maze without offence;
And both connex, as soules in Innocence.