Written when the Author was sick.
Somnus, pow'rful Deity,
Mortals owe their Bliss to thee.
How long shall I thy Absence mourn,
And when be bless'd in thy Return?
Relentless God! why will you flee,
And take Delight to torture me:
Or do you kindly flight my Pray'r,
To make me for my Change prepare?
'Tis well this Happiness remains;
When you resuse to ease our Pains,
Your Brother Death your Place supplies,
And kindly seals the Wretch's Eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.