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Description
"Come heavy sleep the image of true death;
And close up these my weary weeping eyes:
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath,
And tears my heart with sorrows sigh swollen cries:
Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul,
That living dies, till thou on me be stole.

Come shadow of my end, and shape of rest,
Allied to death, child to his blackface's night:
Come thou and charm these rebels in my breast,
Whose waking fancies doe my mind affright.
O come sweet sleep; come, or I die for ever:
Come here my last sleep comes, or come never."

(John Dowland)

Description
"Come heavy sleep the image of true death;
And close up these my weary weeping eyes:
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath,
And tears my heart with sorrows sigh swollen cries:
Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul,
That living dies, till thou on me be stole.

Come shadow of my end, and shape of rest,
Allied to death, child to his blackface's night:
Come thou and charm these rebels in my breast,
Whose waking fancies doe my mind affright.
O come sweet sleep; come, or I die for ever:
Come here my last sleep comes, or come never."

(John Dowland)