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Dreams, Waking Thoughts, and Incidents by William Beckford
page 69 of 270 (25%)
Urunt Lethaeo perfusa papavera somno."


The farther we advanced in the dell, the larger were the plantations
which discovered themselves. For what purpose these gaudy flowers
meet with such encouragement, I had neither time nor language to
inquire; the mountaineers stuttering a gibberish unintelligible even
to Germans. Probably opium is extracted from them; or, perhaps, if
you love a conjecture, Morpheus has transferred his abode from the
Cimmerians, and has perceived a cavern somewhere or other in the
recesses of these endless mountains. Poppies, you know, in poetic
travels, always denote the skirts of his soporific reign, and I don't
remember a region better calculated for undisturbed repose than the
narrow clefts and gullies which run up amongst these rocks, lost in
vapours impervious to the sun, and moistened by rills and showers,
whose continual tricklings inspire a drowsiness not easily to be
resisted. Add to these circumstances the waving of the pines, with
the hum of bees seeking their food in the crevices, and you will have
as sleepy a region as that in which Spenser and Ariosto have placed
the nodding deity.

At present, I must confess, I should not dislike submitting to his
empire, for a few months or years, just as it might happen, whilst
Europe is distracted by demons of revenge and war; whilst they are
strangling at Venice, and tearing each other to pieces in unhappy
London; whilst Etna and Vesuvius give signs of uncommon wrath;
America welters in her blood; and almost every quarter of the globe
is filled with carnage and devastation. This is the moment to humble
ourselves before the God of Sleep; to beseech him to open his dusky
portals; and admit us into the repose of his retired kingdom. If you
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