When on thy pillow lying,
Half listen, I implore,
And at my lute's soft sighing,
Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?

For at my lute's soft sighing
The stars their blessings pour
On feelings never-dying;
Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?

Those feelings never-dying
My spirit aid to soar
From earthly conflicts trying;
Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?

From earthly conflicts trying
Thou driv'st me to this shore;
Through thee I'm hither flying, —
Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?

Through thee I'm hither flying,
Thou wilt not list before
In slumbers thou are lying:
Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?