Go seek her out all courteously,     And say I come, Wind of spices whose song is ever     Epithalamium. O, hurry over the dark lands     And run upon the sea For seas and lands shall not divide us,     My love and me.

Now, wind, of your good courtesy     I pray you go, And come into her little garden     And sing at her window; Singing: The bridal wind is blowing     For Love is at his noon; And soon will your true love be with you,     Soon, O soon.