Sonnet 9

SLeep, Silence Child, sweet Father of soft Rest,
Prince whose Approach Peace to all Mortals brings,
Indifferent Host to Shepheards and to Kings,
Sole Comforter of Minds which are opprest.
Loe, by thy Charming Rod all breathing Things
Lie slumbring, with Forgetfulnesse possest,
And yet o're me to spread thy drowsie Wings
Thou spar'st (alas) who cannot be thy Guest.
Since I am thine, O come, but with that Face
To inward Light which thou art wont to shew▪
With fained Solace ease a true felt Woe;
Or if deafe God thou do deny that Grace,
Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt bequeath,
I long to kisse the Image of my Death.