Ephemeris VIII.

[Strange monsters disturb our calm slumbers, like those we marvel at when, sometimes, in the high upper air the wandering clouds unite and blend together the various shapes] of four-footed beasts and winged creatures; when monstrous shapes of earth and sea are mingled in one, until the cleansing eastern winds blow the clouds to shreds and thin them out into the clear air. Now the courts pass before my eyes with suits at law, and now the spacious theatre with its shows. Here I endure the sight of troops of cavalry cutting down brigands: or in the bloody arena some wild beast tears my face, or I am butchered with the sword. I go afoot across the wrecking sea bound at a stride across the straits, and flit above the air on new-found wings. Then, too, in dreams we undergo amours unspeakable, and night's foul shames, and unions which are the themes of tragedy. Yet there is escape from these whenever shame bursts through the bonds of sleep, scattering the horrors of our dreams, and the mind freed from filthy fancying keeps watch. Then the hands untainted feel about the bed nor find cause for remorse: the sinful guilt of luxury departs, and as the dream fades from us, so its stain. Now, I see myself applauding, one of a triumphant throng: again I am dragged through the streets a disarmed Alan prisoner of war. And now I gaze upon the temples of the gods, their sacred portals and golden palaces; or seem to recline at a feast upon a couch of Sarran (Tyrian) purple, and presently sit feasting at the table of some steamy eating-house.

They say the heavenly bard set for the empty phantoms of sluggish sleep a place beneath an elm-tree's leaves, and appointed them two gates: that which is arched with ivory ever pours forth upon the air a host of deceptive shapes: the second is of horn and sends forth visions of the truth. But if dreams of doubtful import leave us the choice, better that cheerful sights deceive us than we should fear with a cause. Look you, I would even rather be deceived; for, if only gloomy dreams always prove void, it is better to have missed what might have been enjoyed than to tremble at ill-fortune. 'Tis well enough it only fear be far from us. Some there are also who argue their woe and weal by contraries, and who forecast results by opposite interpretation.

Away, you evil dreams, through the sloping firmaments of heaven, where wandering storms scatter the still-vexed clouds; dwell in the moon-lit skies. Why steal you in at my doors and haunt the darkling couch in my confined dwelling? Leave me to pass night unexcited in calm repose till golden Lucifer comes back for me in the rosy east. But if soft sleep shall soothe me with his gentle breath, nor any shapes trouble my rest by night, this grove — the elm which spreads its green leaves on my estate — I dedicate for you to dwell in on your night watches.