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THE PAINS OF SLEEP.
Such punishments, I said, were due
To natures deepliest stain'd with sin:
For aye entempesting anew
Th'unfathomable hell within
The horror of their deeds to view,
To know and loathe, yet wish and do!
Such griefs with such men well agree,
But wherefore, wherefore fall on me?
To be beloved is all I need,
And whom I love, I love indeed.
London: Printed by W. Bulmer and Co.
Cleveland-row, St. James's.
