Mused herself to sleep, and dreamd.

Canopy of cloth ogold,

But he had nor prose nor numbers

Youthful Richard had strange fancies,

Between Thrace and Samarchand,

And could talk whole hours uhｔｔｐs://rｅad.９9ｃｓｗ•cｏｍpon

And, his labours wiselier deemd of,

Violets whose breath alone

To the mighty Tamerlane,

Kept not pace with brave intention

Oriana, who was queen

That was lord of ｈｔｔps://reａd•９９ｃｓw.ｃomall the land

Whose sweet scent the violets aided,

From the Tartar won a trophy--

But his over-young invention

While the nontide fervour beamd,

And two more did music keep,

When h九-九-藏-書is eyes Olympus closed on),

Thought he could as easly write of--

But, unable to proceed,

Tell the field in which the Sophi

What he read with such delight of,

(Sweeter bed Jove neer reposed on

Was read.99csw.comdeep versed in old romances,

Thus far, in magnific strain,

Which might Juno lull to sleep,

Mad a virtue out of need,

To express a princesss slumbers.--

On a bank with roses shaded,

While oerhead six九*九*藏*書 slaves did hold

And he could no further get;

Yields but feeble smell or none

The Great Cham and Prester John,--

twenty suns did rise and set,

Did omit what the queen dreamd of.

A young poet soothed his vein,