A prayer to the Wind.

GOe thou gentle whispering wind,
Beare this sigh; and if thou find
Where my cruell faire doth rest,
Cast it in her snowie brest,
So, enflamed by my desire,
It may set her heart a-fire.
Those sweet kisses thou shalt gaine,
Will reward thee for thy paine:
Boldly light upon herlip,
There suck odours, and thence skip
To her bosome; lastly fall
Downe, and wander over all:
Range about those Ivorie hills,
From whose every part distills
Amber deaw; there spices grow,
There pure streames of Nectar flow;
There perfume thy selfe, and bring
All those sweets upon thy wing:
As thou return'st, change by thy power,
Every weed into a flower;
Turne each Thistle to a Vine,
Make the Bramble Eglantine.
For so rich a bootie made,
Doe but this, and I am payd.
Thou canst with thy powerfull blast.
Heat apace, and coole as fast:
Thou canst kindle hidden flame,
And ag'en destroy the same;
Then for pittie, either stir
Vp the fire of love in her,
That alike both flames may shine,
Or else quite extinguish mine.