BETA

Sonnet.

Sleep, Silence’ child, sweet father of soft rest,1
Prince whose approach peace to all mortals brings,2
Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings,3
Sole comforter of minds which are opprest.4
Lo ! by thy charming rod all breathing things5
Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possest,6
And yet o’er me to spread thy drowsy wings7
Thou spars’st alas, who cannot be thy guest.8
Since I am thine, O come, but with that face9
To inward light which thou art wont to show,10
With feigned solace ease a true-felt woe ;11
Or it, deaf god, thou do deny that grace,12
Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt bequeath,13
I long to kiss the image of my death.14