When sleep has lock’d the senses in her chain:
When sober judgment has his throne resign’d,
She smiles away the chaos of the mind;
And, as warm fancy’s bright elysium glows,
From her each image springs, each colour flows.
She is the sacred guest, th’ immortal friend;
Oft seen o’er sleeping innocence to bend,
In that dead hour of night, to silence giv’n,
Whispering seraphic visions of her heav’n.”
Then Richmond exclaims: “My heart is very jocund in the remembrance of so fair a dream.” While the coward conscience of Richard thus speaks: