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(From Works in Prose and Verse, 1730)
TIRED with business of the day, | |
| Upon her couch supinely lay | |
| Fair Melesinda void of care, | |
| No living creature being near: | |
| When straight a calm and gentle sleep | 5 |
| Did o’er her drowsy eyelids creep; | |
| Her senses thus by fetters tied, | |
| By nimble fancy were supplied: | |
| Her quick imagination brought | |
| The ideas of her waking thought; | 10 |
| She dreamt herself a new-made bride | |
| In bed, by young Philander’s side: | |
| The posset’s eat, the stocking thrown, | |
| And all the company’s withdrawn; | |
| And now the blest Elysium, | 15 |
| Of all her wished for joys, is come. | |
| Philander, all dissolved in charms, | |
| Lies raptured in her circling arms, | |
| With panting breasts and swimming eyes | |
| She meets the visionary joys; | 20 |
| In all the amorous postures love, | |
| Which height of ecstasy could move; | |
| But as she roving did advance | |
| Her trembling legs, O dire mischance! | |
| The couch being near the fireside, | 25 |
| She expanded them, alas! too wide: | |
| She exposed her nethermost attire | |
| Unto the embraces of the fire; | |
| So the chaste Phœnix of the East | |
| With fluttering, fires her spicy nest. | 30 |
| So Semele embracing Jove, | |
| Burnt with fire and with love. | |
| The flames at first did trembling seize | |
| The dangling hem of the lost prize; | |
| But finding no resistance, higher | 35 |
| As ’tis their nature to aspire, | |
| Approaching near the seat of bliss, | |
| The centre of earthly happiness, | |
| Which vastly more of pleasure yields, | |
| Than all the feigned Elysian fields. * * * * * | 40 |
| At last the flames were grown so rude, | |
| They boldly everywhere intrude; | |
| They soon recalled the lady’s sense, | |
| And chased the pleasing vision thence: | |
| Soon as her eyes recovered light, | 45 |
| She straight beheld, the dismal sight. * * * * * | |
| Then viewing of her half-burnt smock, | |
| Thus to herself the sad nymph spoke: | |
| “Is this the effect of dreams? Is this | |
| The fruit of all my fancy’s bliss? | 50 |
| Misfortunes will, I see, betide, | |
| When maidens throw their legs too wide: | |
| Had I but kept my legs across, | |
| I and my smock had had no loss: | |
| I ought, I’m sure, to have took more heed, | 55 |
| For ne’er had virgin greater need: | |
| My kindness and my little care | |
| Has left me scarce a smock to wear. * * * * * | |
| But I could bear the loss of them | |
| Had not the fire disturbed my dream. * * * * * | 60 |
| Ah! cruel flames, you’re too unkind | |
| To bring these fancies to my mind: | |
| Down, down into your native cell | |
| In your own blazing regions dwell: | |
| Vex me no more, let me possess | 65 |
| My linen, or my dream in peace.” | |
| Thus the poor nymph, bewailed her treacherous luck, | |
| At once to lose so good a dream and smock. | |
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