Read it through once

“Here is wine”, answered Xanthus,--dropped a drop; I stooped and placed the lap of cloth aright, Then chafed his right hand, and the Boy his left: But Valens had bethought him, and produced And broke a ball of nard, and made perfume. {50} Only, he did--not so much wake, as--turn And smile a little, as a sleeper does If any dear one call him, touch his face-- And smiles and loves, but will not be disturbed.