ODE VIII.—ON HIS DREAM.[1]
Peaceful slumbering through the night,
On a purple couch reclined,
Dreams of joy and visions bright
Bacchus sent to charm my mind.
Methought I join'd in rapid race
With flying nymphs a sportive crew,
And urging on with swiftest pace,
Still kept the lovely game in view.
While youths, as young Lyæus fair,[2]
With jealous hate, and envy stung,
Who saw my joy, but could not share
Reviled me as I pass'd along.
A kiss I claim'd—my promised prize;
But as on pleasure's brink I seem,
The vision fled my cheated eyes:
I woke, and lo! 'twas all a dream!
Then lonely, sad, and angry too,[3]
To find my high-raised hopes were vain,
The dear delusion to renew,
I sigh'd, and sunk to sleep again.
- ↑ For the different metre of this ode, and of some others in the collection, I have only to remark that I have deviated from the usual Anacreontic measure for the sake of variety.
- ↑ Lyæus is a name given to Bacchus. It is derived from a Greek verb, signifying to loosen or free, and is, from the circumstance of wine freeing the mind from anxiety, appropriately assigned to him.
- ↑ There is a similar passage in one of Ovid's epistles; in that from Sappho to Phaon, so beautifully translated by Pope. I have transcribed it, in order that the reader may have the pleasure of comparing them:—
"Oh, night, more pleasing than the brightest day,
When fancy gives what absence takes away,
And dress'd in all its visionary charms,
Restored my fair deserted to my arms!
But when with day the sweet delusions fly,
And all things wake to life and joy, but I,
As if once more forsaken, I complain,
And close my eyes, to dream of you again."