On a bank with roses shaded,

Whose sweet scent 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

Canopy of cloth ogold,

And two more did music keep,

Which might Juno lull to sleep,

Oriana, who was queen

To the mighty Tamerlane,

That was lord of all the land

Between Thrace and Samarchand,

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.--

Youthful Richard had strange fancies,

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