When I dream that you love me, you'll surely forgive;
  Extend not your anger to sleep;
For in visions alone your affection can live;
  I rise, and it leaves me to weep.

Then, Morpheus! envelop my faculties fast,
  Shed o'er me your languor benign;
Should the dream of to-night but resemble the last,
  What rapture celestial is mine!

They tell us that slumber, the sister of death,
  Mortality's emblem is given;
To fate how I long to resign my frail breath,
  If this be a foretaste of Heaven!

 ...