’Twas night, and many a circling bowl
Had deeply warm’d my thirsty soul;
As lull’d in slumber I was laid,
Bright visions o’er my fancy play’d.
With maidens, blooming as the dawn,
I seem’d to skim the opening lawn;
Light, on tiptoe bathed in dew,
We flew, and sported as we flew!
Some ruddy striplings, who look’d on —
With cheeks, that like the wine-god’s shone,
Saw me chasing, free and wild,
These blooming maids, and slyly smiled;
Smiled indeed with wanton glee,
Though none could doubt they envied me.
And still I flew — and now had caught
The panting nymphs, and fondly thought
To gather from each rosy lip
A kiss that Jove himself might sip —
When sudden all my dream of joys,
Blushing nymphs and laughing boys,
All were gone! — „Alas!” I said,
Sighing for the illusion fled,
„Again, sweet sleep, that scene restore,
Oh! let me dream it o’er and o’er!”