II.
antastic thought cut loose from reason cool
Are dreams wherein the wisest play the fool.
Can dreams be memories? Are some portents?
Who knows? His ignorance man still laments.
The woman dreamed among the Ruins gray,
Where moon shines in at night and sun by day
On crumbling floors where powdered bones thick lie
And glistening serpents glide with gleaming eye.
Now as she seemed to roam in palace drear,
A man in rich and strange attire drew near,
Bemoaning thus: "May every wind and leaf
Re-echo now my wail of hopeless grief!
In mercy shine upon my endless woe,
Great Sun! from whom all life and light outflow.
(73)
