Classic Poem

Hail Gentle Sleep! refreshing pow'r!
'Tis thine to bless the midnight hour,
To labour give its due relief,
And lull to rest the cares of grief:
Still with repose my pillow crown,
And weigh my wearied senses down.
Oh! may I never, rack'd with pain,
Implore thy friendly aid in vain,
Long days and nights in trouble spend,
And but from death expect its end,
From thee, sweet Sleep, what blessings flow
The innocent alone can know;
Their mind no foul remorse annoys,
No guilty fear their peace destroys;
Approving conscience crowns their breast,
Protecting angels guard their rest.
In vain the guilty seek repose,
Their weary eyes no slumbers close,
Remorse and fear their steps pursue,
And vengeance ever haunts their view:
If sleep at last invade their breast,
And nature sink to wish'd-for rest,
They seem to heart terrific screams,
And tortures feel in dismal dreams;
While guilty terror thrills their heart,
Aghast they from their slumbers start,
The scream still murmurs in their ear,
The direful furies still appear:
Afraid to wake, or sleep, they find
Their own tormentors in their mind.