43
There's a night's work that younger, stronger men
Than I might quail at; I must try to sleep,
To snatch a little dreamless deep repose,
Last of my old age.
Lenore:
Sleep, and happy dreams
Attend you, should you dream,
(Aside.)
Not more fantastick
Could any dream be than your waking one,
Of age dispell'd and youth call'd back once more.
Sylvester:
Sing me some old song, that you us'd to sing;
Soothe this old child with some faint lullaby,
That shall, like diver's plummet, sink me down
Into the depths of sleep, from which return'd,
As from a healing bath I may arise!
