Tell him, I fain would see him in the morning.
So, fair thee well; we now would be alone.
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O sleep, sweet nourisher of man and babe:
Soother of every sorrow, that canst bury
The care distracted mind in sweet oblivion,—
To thee, O gentle pow’r! I plight my soul!
Here, then, on my bended knee, great God,
Let me implore thy grace, and look for mercy!
“Though thou hast plac’d me sovereign over men,