Aura veni.
“Come, gentle breeze, come, air divine,
Comfort this drooping heart of mine!
Ah! solace flows with heaven’s own breath,
Which cheers my soul that sank in death.
The works of God all speak His praise;
To Him eternal anthems raise;
This air of heavenly love’s a token,
Let pensive musing now be broken,
Prayer for far greater boons be spoken.