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 me like the silent dew,   Or like those maiden showers Which, by the peep of day, do strew   A baptim 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.