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While Morpheus thus does gently lay

His powerful charge upon each part

Making thy spirits even obey

The silver charms of his dull art;

I, thy Good Angel, from thy side,—

As smoke doth from the altar rise,

Making no noise as it doth glide,—

Will leave thee in this soft surprise;

And from the clouds will fetch thee down

A holy vision, to express

Thy right unto an earthly crown;

No power can make this kingdom less.

But gently, gently, lest I bring

A start in sleep by sudden flight,

Playing aloof, and hovering,

Till I am lost unto the sight.

This is a motion still and soft;

So free from noise and cry,

That Jove himself, who hears a thought,

Knows not when we pass by.

Henry Killigrew