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. Psalm I
2. To a Lady Who Sent me a Copy of Verses at my Going to Bed
3. Tell Me No More How Fair She Is
4. To My Sister Anne King, Who Chid Me In Verse For Being Angry
5. The Short Wooing

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