THE
DISPENSARY
CANTO V.
HEN the still Night, with peaceful Poppies crown'd,
Had spread her shady Pinions o'er the Ground;
And slumb'ring Chiefs of painted Triumphs dream,
While Groves and Streams are the soft Virgin's Theme,
The Surges gently dash against the Shoar,
Flocks quit the Plains, and Gally-Slaves the Oar.
Sleep shakes its downy Wings o'er mortal Eyes,
Mirmillo is the only Wretch it flies.
He finds no Respite from his anxious Grief,
Then seeks, from this Soliloquy, Relief.
Long have I reign'd unrival'd in the Town,
Oppress'd with Fees and deafen'd with Renown.
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