The hint malevolent, the look oblique, The guarded phrase whose meaning kills, yet The list'ner wonders how you thought it cold; HANNAH MORE. SLEEP. The innocent sleep: Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, And steep my senses in forgetfulness? thou Shalt not escape calumny. SHAKSPEARE. SHAKSPEARE. Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep! O thou, from whose rank breath nor sex can He like the world his ready visits pays Where fortune smiles; the wretched he for sakes; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. YOUNG. Sleep! downy sleep! come, close mine eyes, FLATMAN. Interval of grateful shade, welcome to my weary head! Welcome slumbers to my eyes, tired with glaring vanities! My great Master still allows needful periods of repose; By my heavenly Father blest thus I give my powers to rest. DODDRIDGE. O thou best comforter of the sad heart, The weary mourner soothe! For well the art Fond words have oft been spoken to thee, And thou hast had thy store of tenderest The very sweetest words that fancy frames O sleep! it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole Takest away, and into souls dost creep, to pole. Sleep hath its own world, COLERIDGE. |