Come, Heavy Sleep - Capella de Ministrers, Джон Доуленд

Come, heavy Sleep, the image of true Death

And close up these my weary weeping eyes

Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath

And tears my heart with Sorrow’s sigh-swoll'n cries

Come and possess my tired through-worn soul

That living dies till thou on me be stole

Come, shape of rest, and shadow of my end

Allied to Death, child to his joyless black-fac'd Night

Come thou and charm these rebels in my breast

Whose waking fancies doth my mind affright

O come, sweet Sleep, or I die forever;

Come ere my last sleep comes, or come thou never