On being sung/talked to sleep by a traveling companion

The Lotus Eaters by Thomas Moran, 1895
Image Credit: Letters of Transit

Reading in Mardi about the reception of Yoomy's song THE SONG, I noticed how Yoomy's critic Mohi craves being sung to sleep, a state of existence that Yoomy regards as "luxurious":

“Then, minstrel, you shall sing me to sleep every night, especially with that song of Marlena; it is soporific as the airs of Nora-Bamma.” 

“Mean you, old man, that my lines, setting forth the luxurious repose to be enjoyed hereafter, are composed with such skill, that the description begets the reality; or would you ironically suggest, that the song is a sleepy thing itself?” --Mardi; And a Voyage Thither vol. 2 chapter 103

Interesting parallels to Melville's notion of eternal sleep as a "luxurious" state of repose and the idea of being put to sleep by one's traveling companion may be found in a revision to the original dialogue in the March 1853 installment of "Scenes Beyond the Western Border."

Original magazine version:

But now, "the morn is up again,"— and we have marched many miles fasting, and have been attracted through a turbid river by the sight of grass, and have stopped for breakfast under some cotton woods,— and in their shade I am scribbling with a
pencil—

F.—" Yes, and fine work you are making of it! The day should commence with the morning, and the brighter the better; not with the nightmare of a sleeper, who should have watched." --March 1853 Scenes Beyond the Western Border:

1857 revision:

July 7th.—But now, "the morn is up again" [Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage], and we have marched many miles fasting, and have been attracted over the turbid river by the sight of grass, and have stopped and breakfasted under some cotton-woods; and in their shade my pipe and pencil are struggling for exclusive attention;—but pipe has it!—for here comes my sympathetic companion of the night, looking as discontented as if he had not been luxuriously talked to sleep.

"What's the matter?" 

Friend.—O, confound the bivouac! the dew or frost has got into my joints.

--Scenes and Adventures in the Army 

Although added later in revision of the 1851-3 magazine series, the narrator's sense that his friend ("Frank" in the original magazine version) had been talked to sleep accords perfectly with the end of the previous installment. In the September 1852 number, Frank had asked for a plain tale of military adventure. The narrator obliged with a story of the Florida Seminole wars that put Frank to sleep.

When I reached the wood, I found they had charged through a camp, whence every soul fled to a near swamp: while they were entangled there, I ascertained that these fugitives were Seminoles of an earlier migration; and soon drew out my skirmishers—not without some captures. Our spirits were all up; and returning to the prairie, I made other combinations—managed by signals—armed its hills and groves; we over-run many miles of country, and made numerous prisoners, giving but one sabre wound.
But —

"——I will not tire
With long recital of the rest." [Byron, Mazeppa 20]

It was dark again when we returned to the Illinois. Frank! he was sound asleep!

Currier & Ives c. 1846 via Library of Congress