Cradle song

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,

Dreaming o'er the joys of night;

Sleep, sleep, in thy sleep

Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face

Soft desires I can trace,

Secret joys and secret smiles,

Little pretty infant wiles.

O! the cunning wiles that creep

In thy little heart asleep.

When thy little heart does wake

Then the dreadful lightnings break,

From thy cheek and from thy eye,

O'er the youthful harvests nigh.

Infant wiles and infant smiles

Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.