Fidessa more chaste then kinde. By B. Griffin |
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SONNET. XV.
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 | Fidessa |  |
SONNET. XV.
[Care-charmer sleepe, sweet ease in restles miserie]
Care-charmer sleepe, sweet ease in restles miserie,The captiues libertie, and his freedomes long:
Balme of the brused heart, mans chiefe felicitie,
Brother of quiet death, when life is too too long.
A Comedie it is, and now an Historie,
What is not sleepe vnto the feeble minde?
It easeth him that toyles, and him that's sorrie:
It makes the deaffe to heare, to see the blinde.
Vngentle sleepe, thou helpest all but me,
For when I sleepe my soule is vexed most:
It is Fidessa that doth master thee,
If she approach (alas) thy power is lost.
But here she is: see how he runnes amaine,
I feare at night he will not come againe.
| Fidessa | |