1.
When I dream that you love me, you’ll
surely forgive;
Extend not your anger to sleep;
For in visions alone your affection can
live,—
I rise, and it leaves me to
weep.
2.
Then, Morpheus! envelop my faculties fast,
Shed o’er me your languor
benign;
Should the dream of to-night but resemble
the last,
What rapture celestial is
mine!
3.
They tell us that slumber, the sister
of death,
Mortality’s emblem is
given;
To fate how I long to resign my frail
breath,
If this be a foretaste of
Heaven!
4.
Ah! frown not, sweet Lady, unbend your
soft brow,
Nor deem me too happy in this;
If I sin in my dream, I atone for it now,
Thus doom’d, but to
gaze upon bliss.
5.
Though in visions, sweet Lady, perhaps
you may smile,
Oh! think not my penance deficient!
When dreams of your presence my slumbers
beguile,
To awake, will be torture
sufficient.
[Footnote 1: “C. G. B. to E. P.”
’MS. Newstead’.]