Текст оригинала на английском языке
Sonnet 33. Last night her Form the hours of slumber bless'd
Last night her Form the hours of slumber bless'd Whose eyes illumin'd all my youthful years.— Spirit of dreams, at thy command appears Each airy Shape, that visiting our rest, Dismays, perplexes, or delights the breast. My pensive heart this kind indulgence cheers; Bliss, in no waking moment now possess'd, Bliss, ask'd of thee with Memory's thrilling tears, Nightly I cry, how oft, alas! in vain, Give, by thy powers, that airy Shapes controul, Honora to my visions!—ah! ordain Her beauteous lip may wear the smile that stole, In years long fled, the sting from every pain! Show her sweet face, ah show it to my soul!
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