Queen Oriana's Dream

On a bank with roses shaded,

Whose sweet scent the violets aided,

Violets whose breath alone

Yields but feeble smell or none

(Sweeter bed Jove neer reposed on

When his eyes Olympus closed on),

While oerhead six slaves did hold

Canopy of cloth ogold,

And two more did music keep,

Which might Juno lull to sleep,

Oriana, who was queen

To the mighty Tamerlane,

That was lord of all the land

Between Thrace and Samarchand,

While the nontide fervour beamd,

Mused herself to sleep, and dreamd.

Thus far, in magnific strain,

A young poet soothed his vein,

But he had nor prose nor numbers

To express a princesss slumbers.--

Youthful Richard had strange fancies,

Was deep versed in old romances,

And could talk whole hours upon

The Great Cham and Prester John,--

Tell the field in which the Sophi

From the Tartar won a trophy--

What he read with such delight of,

Thought he could as easly write of--

But his over-young invention

Kept not pace with brave intention

twenty suns did rise and set,

And he could no further get;

But, unable to proceed,

Mad a virtue out of need,

And, his labours wiselier deemd of,

Did omit what the queen dreamd of.