XXXVIII.
This night, while sleep begins with heavy wings
To hatch mine eyes, and that unbitted thought
Doth fall to stray; and my chief powers are brought
To leave the sceptre of all subject things:
The first that straight my fancy's error brings
Unto my mind, is STELLA'S image; wrought
By LOVE'S own self, but with so curious draught,
That she, methinks, not only shines but sings:
I start! look! hark! but what in closed up sense
Was held, in open sense it flies away;
Leaving me nought but wailing eloquence.
I, seeing better sights in sight's decay;
Called it anew, and wooed sleep again:
But him her host, that unkind guest had slain.
XXXIX.
Come SLEEP! O SLEEP! the certain knot of peace!
The baiting place of wit! the balm of woe!
The poor man's wealth! the prisoner's release!
Th'indifferent judge between the high and low!
With shield of proof, shield me from out the press
Of those fierce darts, DESPAIR at me doth throw!
O make in me those civil wars to cease!
I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
Take thou of me, smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
A rosy garland, and a weary head:
And if these things as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy Grace; thou shalt in me
Livelier than elsewhere, STELLA'S image see.
