Gave me trances, aspirations,
Glimpses of divine emotion,
Soothing, melting, undefined.
So the night passed lightly over,
And Aurora found me sleeping,
Scarce I wakened with the sun.
Lastly, came the glorious summer;
What aroused me then from dreaming,
At the earliest dawn of morning?
'Twas the buzzing of the flies!
They are touched by no compassion;
Euthlessly they do their duty,
Though the half-awakened sleeper
Greets them with a malediction.
Unabashed their clan they summon,
And the humming swarm is vocal,
And they banish from my eyelids
All the luxury of sleep.
Straightway start I from my pillow,
Leave the close-beleaguered chamber,
Sally out to seek the Muses,
In the haunts to them are dearest.
And I find them 'neath the beeches,
Waiting for me, sometimes chiding,
For my over-long delay.
Thus I owe you, libelled insects.
Thanks for many hours of rapture.
Dullards may indeed abuse you,
Since you wake them to sensation;
But the poet ought to prize you,
And I thank you, as a poet,
Ranking you, beyond all others,
As the ushers to the Muse.
