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Anne Kingsmill Finch - Mussulman`s Dream
Work rating: Low

Where is that World, to which the Fancy flies,
When Sleep excludes the Present from our Eyes;
Whose Map no Voyager cou`d e`er design,
Nor to Description its wild Parts confine? 
Yet such a Land of Dreams We must allow,
Who nightly trace it, tho` we know not how:
Unfetter`d by the Days obtruded Rules,
We All enjoy that Paradise of Fools;
And find a Sorrow, in resuming Sense,
Which breaks some free Delight, and snatches us from thence.


  Thus! in a Dream, a Musselman was shown
A Vizir, whom he formerly had known,
When at the Port he bore deputed Sway,
And made the Nations with a Nod obey.
Now all serene, and splendid was his Brow,
Whilst ready Waiters to his Orders bow;
His Residence, an artful Garden seem`d,
Adorn`d with all, that pleasant he esteem`d; 
Full of Reward, his glorious Lot appear`d,
As with the Sight, our Dreamer`s Mind was chear`d; 
But turning, next he saw a dreadful Sight, 
Which fill`d his Soul with Wonder and Affright, 
Pursu`d by Fiends, a wretched Dervis fled 
Through scorching Plains, which to wide Distance spread;
Whilst every Torture, gloomy Poets paint,
Was there prepar`d for the reputed Saint. 
Amaz`d at this, the sleeping Turk enquires, 
Why He that liv`d above, in soft Attires, 
Now roll`d in Bliss, while t`other roll`d in Fires? 
We`re taught the Suff`rings of this Future State, 
Th` Excess of Courts is likeliest to create; 
Whilst solitary Cells, o`ergrown with Shade, 
The readiest way to Paradise is made. 
True, quoth the Phantom (which he dream`d reply`d) 
The lonely Path is still the surest Guide, 
Nor is it by these Instances deny`d. 
For, know my Friend, whatever Fame report, 
The Vizier to Retirements wou`d resort, 
Th` ambitious Dervis wou`d frequent the Court.
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