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A prayer to the Wind

by
 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.

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