CVII The Dream
No victor that in battle spent,
When he at night asleep doth lie
Rich in a conquered monarch’s tent,
E’er had so vain a dream as I.
Methought I saw the earliest shade 5
And sweetest that the spring can spread,
Of jasmin, briar, and woodbine made;
And there I saw Clorinda dead.
Though dead she lay, yet could I see
No cypress nor no mourning yew; 10
Nor yet the injured lover’s tree;
No willow near her coffin grew.
But all showed unconcerned to be,
As if just Nature there did strive
To be as pitiless as she 15
Was to her lover when alive.
And now, methought, I lost all care,
In losing her; and was as free
As birds let loose into the air,
Or rivers that are got to sea. 20
Methought Love’s monarchy was gone;
And whilst elective numbers sway,
Our choice and change makes power our own,
And those court us whom we obey.
Yet soon, now from my Princess free, 25
I rather frantic grew than glad,
For subjects, getting liberty,
Get but a license to be mad.
Birds that are long in cages awed,
If they get out, awhile will roam; 30
But straight want skill to live abroad,
Then pine and hover near their home.
And to the ocean rivers run
From being pent in banks of flowers;
Not knowing that the exhaling sun 35
Will send them back in weeping showers.
Soon thus for pride of liberty
I low desires of bondage found;
And vanity of being free
Bred the discretion to be bound. 40
But as dull subjects see too late
Their safety in monarchal reign,
Finding their freedom in a State
Is but proud strutting in a chain;
Then growing wiser, when undone, 45
In winter nights sad stories sing
In praise of monarchs long since gone,
To whom their bells they yearly ring;
So now I mourned that she was dead,
Whose single power did govern me; 50
And quickly was by reason led
To find the harm of liberty.
Even so the lovers of this land
(Love’s empire in Clorinda gone)
Thought they were quit from Love’s command, 55
And beauty’s world was all their own.
But lovers, who are Nature’s best
Old subjects, never long revolt;
They soon in passion’s war contest,
Yet in their march soon make a halt. 60
And those, when by my mandates brought
Near dead Clorinda, ceased to boast
Of freedom found, and wept for thought
Of their delightful bondage lost.
And now the day to night was turned, 65
Or sadly night’s close mourning wore;
All maids for one another mourned,
That lovers now could love no more.
All lovers quickly did perceive
They had on earth no more to do 70
Than civilly to take their leave,
As worthies that to dying go.
And now all quires her dirges sing,
In shades of cypress and of yew;
The bells of every temple ring, 75
Where maids their withered garlands strew.
To such extremes did sorrow rise,
That it transcended speech and form,
And was so lost to ears and eyes
As seamen sinking in a storm. 80
My soul, in sleep’s soft fetters bound,
Did now for vital freedom strive;
And straight, by horror waked, I found
The fair Clorinda still alive.
Yet she’s to me but such a light, 85
As are the stars to those who know
We can at most but guess their height,
And hope they mind us here below.
Sir William Davenant.