A Prayer To The Wind

Go thou gentle whispering wind,     Bear this sigh; and if thou find     Where my cruel fair doth rest,     Cast it in her snowy breast,     So, enflam'd by my desire,     It may set her heart a-fire.     Those sweet kisses thou shalt gain,     Will reward thee for thy pain:     Boldly light upon her lip,     There suck odours, and thence skip     To her bosom; lastly fall     Down, and wander over all:     Range about those ivory hills,     From whose every part distills     Amber dew; there spices grow,     There pure streams of nectar flow;     There perfume thyself, and bring     All those sweets upon thy wing:     As thou return'st, change by thy power,     Every weed into a flower;     Turn each thistle to a vine,     Make the bramble eglantine.     For so rich a booty made,     Do but this, and I am paid.     Thou canst with thy powerful blast,     Heat apace, and cool as fast:     Thou canst kindle hidden flame,     And again destroy the same;     Then for pity, either stir     Up the fire of love in her,     That alike both flames may shine,     Or else quite extinguish mine.