Written at SCARBOROUGH
Come placid Sleep! thy balmy influence pour
O'er my sad brow, but come not with thy train
Of fearful visions, melancholy pain,
Or drear forebodings for some future hour.
No, come in all thy charms by fancy drest,5
Give me my absent friends, still let me hear
The cherish'd voice; and by deceits so dear
Atone for all my cares, and give me rest!
Bring back each fading image to my view,
Of pleasures past, of hours too quickly gone,10
Of joys which with my early youth hath flown
Steep all my sorrows in oblivious dew,
So shall I more thy dear illusions prize
Than all that garish day can give my eyes.