University of Virginia Library

The DREAM.

When gentle Sleep had charm'd my Breast,
And lull'd my Senses all to Rest;
With my deluded Eyes I seem'd
To view Anacreon, whilst I dream'd:
A Garland on his Head He wore,
And in his Hand his Lyre He bore:
Harmonious Sounds around Him broke,
In melting Strains, whene're He spoke;
And, as He touch'd the dancing Strings,
The Loves that waited, clapt their Wings.
Old He appear'd; but Silver Hair,
That show'd Him old, had made Him fair:
His Beauties like the Roses shine,
His Smiles were Chearful as his Wine.
A Cupid led the Reeling Bard,
At once his Conduct, and his Guard.
His Wreath He took, his Wreath that spread
Fresh blooming Glories round his Head,
And with a Smile, said He, receive
The Noblest Present I can give.
With Joy I bow'd, my Homage paid,
Proud of the Present which He made.
The fragrant Flow'rs breath'd Sweets divine,
They smelt of Him, and He, of Wine.
Then unadvis'd, with heedless Haste
The Chaplet on my Brows I plac'd.
The Chaplet, warm'd with gay Desires,
Breath'd gentle Flames, and am'rous Fires,
Now in my Blood Anacreon reigns,
Love and Anacreon fill my Veins:
To his soft Lyre my Passions move,
His Lyre, that tunes my Heart to Love.