Текст песни Come, heavy sleep - First Booke of Songes, 1597, no20

Come heavy sleepe the image of true death;
And close up these my weary weeping eyes:
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath,
And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln cries:
Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul,
That living dies, till thou on me be stoule.
Sting - Come, heavy sleep - First Booke of Songes, 1597, no20 - http://ru.motolyrics.com/sting/come-heavy-sleep-first-booke-of-songes-1597-no20-lyrics.html
Come shadow of my end, and shape of rest,

Allied to death, child to his blackfac'd night:
Come thou and charme these rebels in my breast,
Whose waking fancies doe my mind affright.
O come sweet sleepe; come, or I die for ever:
Come ere my last sleepe comes, or come never.