Of the Lady who can sleep when she pleases.

No wonder Sleep from careful Lovers flies
To bath himself in Sacharissi's eyes;
As Fair Astrea once from Earth to Heaven
By Strife and loud Impiety was driven:
So with our Plaints offended and our Tears;
VVise Somnus to that Paradice repairs,
VVaits on her VVill and wretches do's forsake
To court the Nymph, for whom those wretches wake!
More proud than Phoebus of his Throne of Gold
Is the soft God, those softer Limbs to hold;
Nor would exchange with Iove, to hide the Skies
In darkning Clouds, the power to close her eyes:
Eyes which so far all other Lights controul,
They warm our Mortal parts, but these our Soul.
Let her free Spirit, whose unconquer'd Breast
Holds such deep quiet, and untroubled rest,
Know, that though Venus and her Son should spare
Her Rebel Heart, and never teach her Care;
Yet Hymen may inforce her vigils keep,
And for anothers Joy suspend her Sleep.