Classic Poem

As yesternight, my life! I roamed the street,
Flusht with the grape, no slave to guide my feet:
A tiny multitude of boys drew near:
I could not count them from my wildering fear.
Some torches shook; some brandisht darts in air;
Some rattled chains; their rosy limbs were bare,
Till one, more petulant in mischief, cried,
“Seize, bind him; he is known to us, and tried:
'T is he, markt out by an offended fair.”
Instant my neck was noosed in knotted snare:
One shouts to drag me forth; another cries,
“Wretch! if he doubts that we are Gods, he dies.
For thee, all undeserving as thou art,
She wakeful counts the hours, that slow depart:
And all expectant sighs; while some strange fair
Attracts thee to her door: we know not where.
Fond fool! when, disentangled from her head
Her nightly turban's purple fillet 's spread,
As, drooping with moist sleep, she lifts her eyes,
Such odours from her locks dishevelled rise,
As ne'er Arabia's breathing balms diffuse;
For Love's own hands extract those essenced dews.
But spare him, brothers! the repentant youth
Gives his free promise now of amorous truth:
And see, we reach the appointed house,” he said:
Then my stript mantle o'er my shoulders spread,
And led me in: “Go now: no longer roam:
But learn from this to pass thy nights at home.”