To Musique, To Becalme His Fever

Charm me asleep, and melt me so
With thy delicious numbers
That, being ravish’d, hence I go
Away in easy slumbers
Ease my sick head
And make my bed
Thou power that canst sever
From me this ill
And quickly still
Though thou not kill
My fever

Thou sweetly canst convert the same
From a consuming fire
Into a gentle licking flame
And make it thus expire
Then make me weep
My pains asleep;
And give me such reposes
That I, poor I
May think thereby
I live and die
‘Mongst roses

Fall on mе like a silent dew
Or likе those maiden showers
Which, by the peep of day, do strew
A baptism o’er the flowers
Melt, melt my pains
With thy soft strains;
That, having ease me given
With full delight
I leave this light
And take my flight
For Heaven