In sweet oblivion, temporary death!
Kind sleep might moderate my feverish breath,
And my worn soul again with strength be blest.
My Horse, my friend, I do implore thee, fly!
Though with the effort break my frame so weak:
Grant for thy master’s brows he thus may seek
Sleep’s balmy wings spread forth benignantly.
Let him from thee gain such refreshment kind;
Though much another day it caused me shame,
In my mad cruelty and frenzy’s blame,