11.623-625 (tr. Frank Justus Miller):
O Sleep, thou rest of all things, Sleep, mildest of the gods,
balm of the soul, who puttest care to flight, soothest our bodies worn with hard ministries, and preparest them for toil again!
Somne, quies rerum, placidissime, Somne, deorum,
pax animi, quem cura fugit, qui corpora duris
fessa ministeriis mulces reparasque labori...
In Dryden's version:
O sacred Rest,
Sweet pleasing Sleep, of all the Pow'rs the best!
O Peace of Mind, repairer of Decay,
Whose Balms renew the Limbs to Labours of the Day,
Care shuns thy soft approach, and sullen flies away!