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On a bank with roses shaded,Whose sweet st the violets aided,
Violets whose breath alone
Yields but feeble smell or none
(Sweeter bed Jove neer reposed on
When his eyes Olympus closed on),
While oerhead six slaves did hold
opy of cloth ogold,
And two more did music keep,
Which might Juno lull to sleep,
Oriana, who was queen
To the mighty Tamerla<mark></mark>ne,
That was lord of all the land
Between Thrad Samard,
While the nontide fervour beamd,
Mused herself to sleep, and dreamd.
Thus far, in magnific strain,
A young poet soothed his vein,
But he had nor prose nor numbers
To express a princesss slumbers.--
Yout<bdo>9９ｌｉｂ.</bdo>hful Richard had strange fancies,
Was deep ve<u></u>rsed in old romances,
Andbbr></abbr> could talk whole hours upon
The Great Cham and Prester John,--
Tell the field in which the Sophi
From the Tartar won a trophy--
What he read with such delight of,
Thought he could as easly write of--
But his over-young iion
Kept not pace with brave iion
twenty suns did rise a,
And he could no fu<cite></cite>rther get;
But, uo proceed,
Mad a virtue out of need,
And, his labours wiselier deemd of,
Did omit what the queen dreamd of.
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