University of Virginia Library

An Epithalamium.

Muse be a bride-maide? dost not heare
How honoured Hunt, and his fair Deer,
This day prepare her wedding cheer?
The swiftest of thy pinions take,
And hence a sudden journey make,
To help 'em break their bridall Cake.
Hast'em to Church, tell 'em love sayes,
Religion breeds but fond delayes,
To lengthen but the tedious dayes.

35

Chide the slow Priest, that so goes on,
As if he feard he should have done
His Sermon, e're the glasse be run.
Bid him post o're his words, as fast
As if himself were now to tast
The pleasure of so fair a wast.
Now lead the blessed Couple home,
And serve a dinner up for some,
Their banquet is as yet to come.
Maids dance as nimbly as your blood,
VVhich I see swell a purple flood
In emulation of that good
The Bride possesseth; for I deeme
VVhat she enjoyes will be the theme
This night of every virgins dream.
But envy not their blest content,
The hasty night is almost spent,
And they of Cupid will be shent.
The Sun is now ready to ride,
Sure 'twas the morning I espide,
Or 'twas the blushing of the Bride.
See how the lusty bridegrooms veins
Swell, till the active torrent strains
To break those o're-stretcht azure chains.
And the fair bride ready to cry
To see her pleasant losse so nigh,

36

Pants like the scaled Pigeons eye.
Put out the torch, Love loves no lights,
Those that perform their mistick rites
Must pay their Orisons by nights.
Nor can that sacrifice be done
By any Priest, or Nun alone,
But when they both are met in one.
Now you that tast of Hymens cheer,
See that your lips do meet so neer,
That Cockles might be tutor'd there.
And let the whisperings of your love
Such short and gentle murmurs prove,
As they were Lectures to the dove.
And in such strict embraces twine,
As if you read unto the Vine,
The Ivy and the Columbine.
Then let your mutuall bosoms beat,
Till they create by virtuall heat
Mirrhe, Balme, and Spikenard in a sweat.
Thence may there spring many a pair
Of Sons and Daughters strong and fair:
How soon the gods have heard my prair!
Methinks already I espy
The cradles rock, the babies cry,
And drowsie Nurses Lullaby.