University of Virginia Library

A Dream.

When Titan hasted from his heavenly Sphere,
And Thetis modest Blushes did appear;
Grown weary with the fervor of the day,
Upon the Banks of a cool Brook I lay;
The shallow Stream soft murmuring did yield,
A whistling Zeph'rus cool'd the heated field;
The Birds in Trees with their mellodious Throats
Prattled the discord of divided Notes.
The Hills the sound repell'd, the Virgin Voice
To every accent lent a parting Noise.
The Grashopper (whose shriller voice repairs
The smalness of his kind) with pleasant Airs
Made all the Fields to ring, such harmony
Proceeded from th' Innumerable Fry.
I fancy'd this to be th' Elizean Groves,
The happy Paradise of all chast Loves;
And wisht my Clelia here, when happily
A silent slumber clos'd my twinkling Eye.
Behold, the God of Dreams before me stood,
And with his Leaden Wand he smooth'd the flood,
And brusht the whistling Winds, which forthwith lay
Upon the ground as Dews that fall in May.
A gen'ral silence cover'd all the place,
And on my Head he laid his drowsie Mace;
Earth seem to vanish, Heaven for to descend,
A hundred Thrones one Goddess did attend,
VVho in a Rain-bow Robe, commixt with Rays,
Such as Sol wears when he the VVorld surveys,
Enters the Pallace; from her sparkling Eye;
Proceeded Love, and awful Majesty.
A Throne there was, Twelve Lyons did uphold,
Set round with Amethysts in beaten Gold.
The steps were Crowns, Scepters, and Diadems,
Rubies, and Saphirs, and commixed Gems.
The Goddess this ascends, whose heavenly Face
Did quite eclipse the luster of the place;
Millions of Cupids, in their Liveries,
Attend the motion of her sparkling Eyes.
A Herauld then the Goddess will proclaims,
And summons all who burn with Love's fierce Flames
T'appear before the Throne. VVithout delay,
Innumerable Troops her will obey.
And here 'twas worthy of ones observation,
To see each Mimick fool it in his station.
One in an antick posture leads a Dance,
And swears each step is Alamode de France;
'Tother more solid, walks a State-Corant,
And Pedigreed Antiquity doth vaunt.
The next a puling Lover, foreward steers,
His Eyes deject, distill abundant Tears,
Complaining of his cruel Fate, to move
In some base Punk a more auspicious love;
A braging, roaring Russian next appears,
Who talks of desolation, racks and fears;
Affrights his Love, who he doth strive to gain,
And thinks Bellona one of Venus train.
Some aged Fools I saw among the rest,
Who time of every Sense did quite divest;
Shaking their hoary Heads, in their esteem,
As Complaisant as when they were Sixteen;
Protesting Love, in such a doleful strain,
As Ghosts are wont who Visit Earth again.
But that which mov'd me most, was for to see
My Brother Poets sensless foolery.
Loaden with Anagrams, Acrosticks, time
Was never spent in cobling of such Rhime:
Some weep in Elegie, and Epitaph,
Whose Nonsense well might cause the dead to laugh;
Others more Jocund, Songs and Catches make,
And sure they are, that every Clause will take.
And in a word, though all was but delusion,
It was the perfect Map of meer confusion.
The Goddess smil'd, (as well she might) to see
The true adorers of her Deity
So much deluded by each Idle Passion,
Which was by custom grown into a fashion;
And gave Command, for 'twas her will and Pleasure,
Which rashly broke, they might repent at leasure,
That none shou'd Court in any other sort
Then what was us'd when Mars and she did sport;
Think you, said she, that Peleus e're had sped
So happily in Thetis pregnant Bed,
Who oft by varying forms she did delude,
If not by force he had her charms subdu'd?
Did not th' Infernal Prince ascend from Hell,
To Lights abode, where Gods and Men do dwell,
And took thy Daughter, Ceres, to Command
The utmost limits of th' Infernal Land?
Yes, Proserpine was fair, a Goddess too,
What cannot Love, that mighty Monarch, do?
Think you that Jove, Father of Gods and Men,
Had e're enjoy'd Agenor's lovely Gem,
If not by Pollicy made his escape,
And then confirm'd his Passion with a Rape?
And thousands more were won after this fashion,
Not courted with an Idle whining passion.
Fortune assists the bold, who Courts by Letter
Is counted modest, yet thought ne're the better;
For Women love those that are brisk and free,
And hate the lasie Lovers Pedantry.
If they slight you, do you but then slight them,
The Women soon will learn to Court the Men:
Did not the Beautious Eccho Court in vain
The self-admiring Boy, who with disdain
Her love repaid, did not Medea wo
The Emonean Prince with love and Magick too?
And Sylla too, by Impious love misled,
Her Father slew, to gain just Minos Bed;
And both her self and Purple Hair did bring
Pledges of love, unto the Cretan King.
And Dido, whilst her love she did pursue,
The Trojan Prince to her embraces drew.
'Tis only Custom makes them claim as due
The Adoration that belongs to you;
Your servile Yoak of passion quickly break,
And put in practice what you hear me speak.
They all assent, and wisely did approve
The wholsom Counsel of the Queen of Love,
And so departed: when a pretty Lass,
Which, in the dark might for my Lady pass,
Gave me a kiss, and to me smiling fed,
She thought the Grass as good as any Bed;
I hugg'd a wholsom Girl in my esteem;
So wak'd, and vext, I found it but a Dream.