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The works of Sr William Davenant

... Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed, and Those which he design'd for the Press: Now published Out of the Authors Originall Copies
  

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The DREAME.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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The DREAME.

To Mr. George Porter.

1

No Victor, when in Battel spent,
When he at night asleep doth lie,
Rich in a Conquer'd Monarchs Tent,
Ere had so vaine a dreame as I.

2

Me-thought I saw the early'st shade,
And sweetest that the Spring can spread;
Of Jesmyn, Bry're; and Woodbine made,
And there I saw Clorinda dead.

3

Though dead she lay, yet could I see
No Cypress nor no mourning Ewe;
Nor yet the injur'd Lovers Tree;
No Willow near her Coffin grew.

4

But all shew'd unconcern'd to be;
As if just Nature there did strive
To seem as pittiless as she
Was to her Lover when alive,

314

5

And now methought I lost all care
In losing her; and was as free
As Birds let loose into the Ayre,
Or Rivers that are got to Sea.

6

Methought Loves Monarchy was gone;
And whilst Elective Numbers s{t}ay
Our choice and change makes Pow'r our own,
And those Court us whom we obey.

7

Yet soon, now from my Princess free,
I rather frantick grew then glad:
For Subjects, getting liberty,
Got but a Licence to be mad.

8

Birds that are long in Cages aw'd,
If they get out, a while will roame,
But straite want skill to live abroad,
Then pine and hover near their home.

9

And to the Ocean Rivers run
From being pent in Banks of Flowers,
Not knowing that th'exhaling Sun
Will send them back in weeping showers.

10

Soon thus for pride of Liberty
I low desires of bondage found;
And vanity of being free.
Bred the discretion to be bound.

11

But as dull Subjects see too late
Their safety in Monarchal Reign,
Finding their freedome in a State
Is but proud strutting in a Chaine.

12

Then growing wiser, when undone,
In Winters nights sad Stories fing
In praise of Monarchs long since gone,
To whom their Bells they yearly Ring.

13

So now I mourn'd that she was dead,
Whose single pow'r did govern me,
And quickly was by reason led
To find the harm of liberty.

14

In Loves free State where many sway,
Number to change our Hearts prepares,
And but one Fetter takes away,
To lay a world of handsome snares.

15

And I, Loves Secretary now,
(Ray'd in my dreame to that grave stile)
The dangers of Loves State to showe,
Wrote to the Lovers of this Isle.

315

16

For Lovers correspond, and each,
Though, States-man like, he th' other hate,
Yet slily one another teach
By civil Love to save the State.

17

And, as in interreigne men draw
Pow'r to themselves of doing right,
When generous reason, not the Law,
They think restraines their appetite.

18

Even so the Lovers of this Land
(Loves Empire in Clorinda gone)
Thought they were quit from Loves command,
And beauties World was all their own.

19

But Lovers (who are Natures best
Old Subjects) never long revolt;
They soon in Passions Warr contest;
Yet in their March soon make a halt.

20

And those (when by my Mandates brought
Near dead Clorinda) ceast to boast
Of freedome found, and wept for thought
Of their delightful bondage lost.

21

And now the day to night was turn'd,
Or sadly nights close Mourning wore;
All Maids for one another mourn'd,
That Lovers now could love no more.

22

All Lovers quickly did perceive
They had on Earth no more to doe;
But civilly to take their leave
As worthys that to dying goe.

23

And now all Quires her Dirges sing;
In shades of Cypress, and of Ewe;
The Bells of ev'ry Temple ring,
Where Maids their wither'd Garlands strew

24

To such extreames did sorrow rise
That it transcended speech and forme;
And was so lost to Eares and Eyes
As Seamen sinking in a storme.

25

My Soul, in sleeps soft fetters bound,
Did now for vital freedome strive;
And strait, by horror wak't, I found
The fair Clorinda still alive.

26

Yet she's to me but such a Light
As are the Stars to those who know
We can at most but guess their height,
And hope they minde us here below.