Still is the night breeze!-not a lonely sound
Steals through the silence of this dreary hour;
O'er these high battlements Sleep reigns profound,
And sheds on all his sweet oblivious power.

On all but me-I vainly ask his dews
To steep in short forgetfulness my cares:
Th' affrighted god still flies when Love pursues,
Still-still denies the wretched lover's prayers.'