Tixall Poetry/A Dreame
A Dreame.
by Mr Fanshawe.
I saw two swans come proudly downethe streameOf Trent, as I his silver curies beheld;To which, the doves that draw fayre Venus' teame,And Venus selfe, must beauty's scepter yield.
Jove was not halfe so white, when he was one,And courted Leda in a snowy plume;Nor never such a taking shape put on,Of all that love compelled him to assume.
Fayre birds, allied to him that set on fireThe world, why do ye so delight in floods?And kindling in a thousand hearts desire,Quench his soft movings in your gentle bloods?
Ah! since so many live in flames for you,Leave to be swans, growe salamanders too.