To Sleep (Somnus)

Why do I deserve this? What crime did I do?
Youth, most tranquil of the gods, why do I
suffer alone without your gifts, Mr. Sleep?
The herds are silent, the birds and beasts, the
drooping treetops mimic exhausted slumber; the rushing
of the deep has died, the sea supine against the land.
Seven times now, Phoebus has seen my aching eyes
standing at attention; so often was I watched by
Oetaean and Paphian lamps, so often warm Tithonia
strode by my complaints and splashed me with her icy whip.
How can I go on? Not even if I had a thousand eyes
like divine Argos, alternated in vigilance,
never keeping watch with his entire person.
But what now? If someone, on some long night,
wrapped in a lady's entwining arms,
pushed you away freely, Sleep, come this way!
Don't compel my eyes by pouring
all your wings upon them - happier people
deserve that prayer - just tap me with your wand,
enough for me, or tread so softly and whisk on by.

(Statius, Silvae 5.4)