―186―
| Sleep, extend thy downy pinion, |
| Hasten from thy Cell with speed; |
| Spread around thy soft dominion; |
| Much those brows thy balmy presence need. |
| Wave thy wand of slumbrous power, |
| Moistened in Lethèan dews, |
| To charm the busy spirits of the hour, |
| And brighten memory's malignant hues. |
―187―
| Thy mantle, dark and starless, cast |
| Over my selected youth; |
| Bury, in thy womb, the mournful past, |
| And soften, with thy dreams, th' asperities of truth. |
| The changeful hues of his impassioned sleep |
| My office it will be to watch the while; |
| With thee, my love, when fancy prompts, to weep, |
| And when thou smil'st, to smile. |
| But sleep! I charge thee, visit not these eyes, |
| Nor raise thy dark pavilion here, |
| 'Till morrow from the cave of ocean rise, |
| And whisper tuneful joy in nature's ear. |
| But mutely let me lie, and sateless gaze |
| At all the soul that in his visage sits, |
| While spirits of harmonious air,——— |
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