_Sheridan._
In the account which Moore has given, in his _Life of Sheridan_, of the
writings left unfinished by that celebrated orator and dramatist, he
states:
"There also remain among his papers three acts of a drama without
a name, written evidently in haste, and with scarcely any
correction."
From this production he gives the following verses, to which he has
appended the note I have placed immediately after them:--
"Oh yield, fair lids, the treasures of my heart,
Release those beams, that make this mansion bright;
From her sweet sense, Slumber! tho' sweet thou art,
Begone, and give the air she breathes in light.
"Or while, oh Sleep, thou dost those glances hide,
Let rosy slumber still around her play,
Sweet as the cherub Innocence enjoy'd,
When in thy lap, new-born, in smiles he lay.
"And thou, oh Dream, that com'st her sleep to cheer,
Oh take my shape, and play a lover's part;
Kiss her from me, and whisper in her ear,
Till her eyes shine, 'tis night within my heart."
"I have taken the liberty here of supplying a few rhymes and words
that are wanting in the original copy of the song. The last line
of all runs thus in the manuscript:--
'Til her eye shines, I live in darkest night,'
which not rhyming as it ought, I have ventured to alter as above."
Now the following sonnet, which occurs in the third book of Sir Philip
Sidney's _Arcadia_, is evidently the source from whence Sheridan drew
his inspiration, the concluding line in both poems being the same. Had
Moore given Sheridan's without alteration, the resemblance would in all
probability be found much closer:--
"Lock up, faire liddes, the treasure of my heart,
Preserve those beames, this ages onely light:
To her sweet sence, sweet sleepe some ease impart,
Her sence too weake to beare her spirits might.
"And while, O Sleepe, thou closest up her sight,
(Her sight where Love did forge his fairest dart)
O harbour all her parts in easefull plight:
Let no strange dreame make her faire body start.
"But yet, O dreame, if thou wilt not depart
In this rare subject from thy common right:
But wilt thy selfe in such a seate delight,
"Then take my shape, and play a lover's part:
Kisse her from me, and say unto her sprite,
Till her eyes shine, I live in darkest night."
The edition I quote from is that "Printed by W. S. for Simon Waterson,
London, 1627." I may add, that I wrote to Moore as far back as 1824 to
point out this singular coincidence; but although the communication was
courteously acknowledged, I do not believe the circumstance has been
noticed in any subsequent edition of Sheridan's memoirs.