“Breathe, balmy spirit of the West,
“Why are thy gales so long delayed?
“Why must this lacerated breast
“Vainly invoke thy lenient aid—

“For thee I stayed thro' wintry hours,
“In patient, long captivity;
“And while stern Eurus ling'ring lours,
“Still blighted Spring's chill'd touch I flee.

“Play round this drooping brow once more,
“And gently kiss this fever'd cheek;
“To life, to liberty restore,
“And hope & health returning speak.—

Thus have I oft with fruitless prayer,
Wooed the mild Zephyr's tardy wing,
Languish'd to taste the fresh pure air,
The promised healing breath of spring.—

Then wooed in vain; perversely now
Why send us here unwelcome gales?
Why must no breeze in Heaven but thee,
Cling fondly to our fetter'd sails—

Mild as thou art, thy prisoner still
I droop; by thee unblest, confined,
To me unfriendly seems thy will,
Absent or present still unkind—

Go to the couch, where languid pain
Gasping invokes thy clement power;
Go, sport mid Flora's glowing train,
Or sigh o'er young Love's myrtle bower—

Soon will I hail thee, welcome, kind,
And bid thee on thy pinions bear,
To friends so dear I left behind,
The kiss of loved affection's tear.—

Close in thy chambers of the West,
Mid spicy sweets luxurious lie;
Or watch near the beloved's breast,
To steal the perfume of a sigh—

But hie thee hence! & thou my Foe,
Whose fatal blasts I dread no more;
For once, propitious Eastwind! blow,
And waft us to our Isle's green shore.