To the Winds (Song)

YE Winds, that in your hasty Flight,
Just kiss the Leaves, and then away,
The Leaves that tremble with Delight,
And murmur at so short a stay;
Stop here, and e're you further goe,
Give audience to a Lover's Woe.

Condoling Air, to you I speak,
Since she is deaf to all my Grief,
You see my Heart will quickly break,
If careless She gives no Relief:
I'm sure you're troubled at my Pain,
For when I sigh, you sigh again.

Go, gentle Air, fly to my Dear,
That thus with Love inflames my Breast,
And whisper softly in her Ear,
'Tis she that robs my Soul of Rest:
Express, if possible, such Moans,
May imitate my dying Groans.

Or with thy rougher Breath make bold
To toss the Treasure of her Hair,
Till thou dost all those Curls unfold
Which cunningly Mens Hearts ensnare;
Try all thy Skill to break the Net,
That I, like thee, may Freedom get.

Then let some thicker Blasts arise,
And with her Face so sport, and play,
Till the bright Rays of her fair Eyes
Be qualify'd, or ta'en away;
Make all those Charms which Men assail,
Of lesser force, and less prevail.