Care-charming sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother of Death, sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted wight; fall like a cloud
In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud
Or painful to his slumbers, but easy, sweet,
And as a purling stream, you son of Night,
Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain
Like hollow-murmuring winds, or silver rain;
Into this Prince gently, o gently slide
And kiss him into slumber like a bride.