The cypress curtain of the night is spread

The cypress curtain of the night is spread,
And over all a silent dew is cast.
The weaker cares, by sleep are conquered:
But I alone, with hideous grief aghast,
In spite of Morpheus' charms, a watch do keep
Over mine eyes, to banish careless sleep.

Yet oft my trembling eyes through faintness close,
And then the Map of Hell before me stands;
Which ghosts do see, and I am one of those
Ordained to pine in sorrow's endless bands,
Since from my wretched soul all hopes are reft
And now no cause of life to me is left.

Grief, seize my soul! for that will still endure
When my crazed body is consumed and gone;
Bear it to thy black den! there keep it sure
Where thou ten thousand souls dost tire upon!
Yet all do not afford such food to thee
As this poor one, the worser part of me.