Dream (sonnet 1)

Fly out, O dream, of your night-shell,
Come down off the roof of wild sky;
Foretell the fair fortunes and wish me well
Attend so quick for the attacker's I,
Sink into this soppy bonce, your wand
I'm sure you will not, poor fool dream!
Your spells at possum dare not stand
Olde thief, that alone robs at moon's beam
Hide no more in mirages, O monster of nights!
Strewing ill-haps, all days and ope noons
Thus seek men's breast buried in mighty frights
Dream! Do you as falling stars cause sibyl swoons,
With evil threats to madness enchants diviners
The plague as it dreads sooks, saying some prayers?