Mad Song

So wild winds weep
And the night is a-cold
Come hither, Sleep
Let my griefs unfold:
The morning peeps
Over the eastern steeps
And the rustling beds of dawn
The earth they do scorn

To the vault
Of pavèd heaven
With sorrow fraught
My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of Night
Make weak the eyes of Day

Like a fiend in a cloud
With howling woe
After night I do crowd
And with night will go;
Turn my back to the east
From whence comforts have increased;
Light doth seizе my brain
With frantic pain