The Dream: A Song

The Grove was gloomy all around,
Murm’ring the Streams did pass,
Where fond Astrae laid her down
Upon a Bed of Grass.

I slept and saw a piteous sight,
Cupid a weeping lay,
Till both his little Stars of Light
Had wept themselves away.

Methought I ask’d him why he cry’d,
My Pity led me on:
All sighing the sad Boy reply’d,
Alas I am undone!

As I beneath yon Myrtles lay,
Down by Diana’s Springs,
Amyntas stole my Bow away,
And Pinion’d both my Wings.

Alas! cry’d I, ‘twas then thy Darts
Wherewith he wounded me:
Thou Mighty Deity of Hearts,
He stole his Pow’r from thee.

Revenge thee, if a God thou be,
Upon the Amorous Swain;
I’ll set thy Wings at Liberty,
And thou shalt fly again.

And for this Service on my Part,
All I implore of thee,
Is, That thou’t wound Amyntas Heart,
And make him die for me.

His Silken Fetters I Unty’d,
And the gay Wings display’d;
Which gently fann’d, he mounts and cry’d,
Farewel fond easy Maid.

At this I blush’d, and angry grew
I should a God believe;
And waking found my Dream too true,
Alas I was a Slave.