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Of coursing chariots and approaching crowds, And courtly tournaments, and tried in vain To cast my richest mantle o'er my form To meet the coming show.

Thy mantle for the show!

Yes, but perversely, Still, as one tassell'd end across my shoulders I had composed, the others to the ground Fell dangling all awry. Then I look'd down, And, O sight of confusion! Canst thou guess What saw I then?

Some fearful thing, no doubt.

My own bare feet unslipper'd and unhosed, That on the checker'd floor began to move In dancing measure. Yea, the very blood Rush'd to my cheeks; I felt it in my dream.

How could a dream so vain find harbourage In thy fantastic brain, my little friend. On such a dreadful night?

It was the tempest's sound that brought the dream.

So grand a cause producing thoughts so vain!