Chapter 5 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 fervor beamd, Mused herself to sleep, and dreamed. Thus far, in magnific strain, A young poet soothed his veins, 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 Sophie From the Tartar won a trophy-- What he read with such delight of, Thought he could as easily 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 labors wiser deemd of, Did omit what the queen dreamed of.