Henry King, Bishop of Chichester (Ãåíðè Êèíã, åïèñêîï ×è÷åñòåðñêèé)

Sonnet. Go thou that vainly do'st mine eyes invite

Go thou that vainly do'st mine eyes invite
To taste the softer comforts of the night,
And bid'st me cool the feaver of my brain,
In those sweet balmy dewes which slumber pain;
Enjoy thine own peace in untroubled sleep,
Whil'st my sad thoughts eternal vigils keep.
O could'st thou for a time change breasts with me,
Thou in that broken Glass shouldst plainly see,
A heart which wastes in the slow smothring fire
Blown by despair, and fed by false desire,
Can onely reap such sleeps as Sea-men have,
When fierce winds rock them on the foaming wave.

1. To His Friends of Christ-Church upon the Mislike of the Marriage of the Arts Acted at Woodstock
2. Upon a Braid of Hair in a Heart sent by Mrs. E. H.
3. To a Lady Who Sent me a Copy of Verses at my Going to Bed
4. An Elegy Upon The Death Of Mr. Edward Holt
5. To My Sister Anne King, Who Chid Me In Verse For Being Angry

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