While his red rosy lips, that now sighed like a billow
At play with the breeze, told how sweet was his dream.

He dreamed that he sat on a shining throne, wrought
Of the purest of gold that the earth could supply,
While a trio of beautiful maids, who each brought
A gift for his shrine, in succession past by.

First Fame, with the step and the glance of a queen,
Came up, and before him bent down her proud knee,
And held up a garland, whereon played the sheen
Of the beams which insure immortality!

Next Wealth, the stern mistress of men, for whose smile
They toil like the galley slave,--brought in her hand
The fair gems of many an ocean isle,
And the diamonds of many a far off land.

And Beauty came too, with her blue, laughing eye,
Her fair flowing locks, and her soft rosy cheek,
And red lips, whose sweet smile told silently
The tale which they seemed ashamed to speak.

'Neath the shade of a palm branch a fourth one stood by,
With locks like in hue to the tresses of Night,
With a pale, pensive brow, and a dark dreamy eye,
Where the soul of sweet softness lay gleaming in light!

It was Fancy: Love gazed, and his eager eye shone
With a lustre of feeling, deep, fervent, and sweet;