raving thoughts and helpless moan,
Sleep seal'd my eyes up, and, my senses gone,
My waking fancy spied a shining light,
In which appear'd long pain, and short delight.
A mighty General I then did see,
Like one, who, for some glorious victory,
Should to the Capitol in triumph go:
I (who had not been used to such a show
In this soft age, where we no valour have,
But pride) admired his habit, strange and brave,
And having raised mine eyes, which wearied were,
To understand this sight was all my care.
Four snowy steeds a fiery chariot drew;
There sat the cruel boy; a threatening yew
His right hand bore, his quiver arrows held,
Against whose force no helm or shield prevail'd.
Two party-colour'd wings his shoulders ware;
All naked else; and round about his chair
Were thousand mortals: some in battle ta'en,
Many were hurt with darts, and many slain.
Glad to learn news, I rose, and forward press'd
So far, that I was one amongst the rest;
As if I had been kill'd with loving pain
Before my time; and looking through the train
Of this tear-thirsty king, I would have spied
Some of my old acquaintance, but descried
No face I knew: if any such there were,
They were transform'd with prison, death, and care.
At last one ghost, less sad than th' others, came,
Who, near approaching, call'd me by my name,
And said: "This comes of Love." "What may you be,"
I answer'd, wondering much, "that thus know me?
For I remember not t' have seen your face."
He thus replied: "It is the dusky place
That dulls thy sight, and this hard yoke I bear:
Else I a Tuscan am; thy friend, and dear
To thy remembrance." His wonted phrase
And voice did then discover what he was.
So we retired aside, and left the throng,
When thus he spake: "I have expected long
To see you here with us; your face did seem
To threaten you no less. I do esteem
Your prophesies; but I have seen what care
Attends a lover's life; and must beware."
"Yet have I oft been beaten in the field,
And sometimes hurt," said I, "but scorn'd to yield."
He smiled and said: "Alas! thou dost not see,
My son, how great a flame's prepared for thee."
I knew not then what by his words he meant:
But since I find it by the dire event;
And in my memory 'tis fix'd so fast,
That marble gravings cann