Go, crystal tears, like to the morning showers, And sweetly weep into thy lady's breast. And as the dews revive the drooping flowers, So let your drops of pity be adressed, To quicken up the thoughts of my desert, Which sleeps too sound whilist I from her depart.
Haste, restless sighs, and let your burning breath Dissolve the ice of her indurate heart, Whose frozen rigour like forgetful Death. Feels never any touch of my desert: Yet sighs and tears to her I sacrifice, Both from a spotless heart and patient eyes.