Giovanni della Casa (1503–1556)

Translated by John Addington Symonds

O SLEEP, O tranquil son of noiseless Night,

Of humid, shadowy Night; O dear repose

For wearied men, forgetfulness of woes

Grievous enough the bloom of life to blight!

Succour this heart that hath outworn delight,

And knows no rest; these tired limbs compose;

Fly to me, sleep; thy dusky vans disclose

Over my languid eyes, then cease thy flight.

Where, where is Silence, that avoids the day?

Where the light dreams, that with a wavering tread

And unsubstantial footing follow thee?

Alas! in vain I call thee; and these grey,

These frigid shades flatter in vain. O bed,

How rough with thorns! O nights, how harsh to me!