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 | The Wedding |  |
The windes do wraste: Blemish'd with the staine
Of impure life, some by Atheisticke rimes,
And witty surfeits, force these ruder times
To fond amazement; but thy faire defence
Rests in cleare Arte, and secure Innocence.
As thou, thy Muse is chast, on which no Rape
VVas ere by thee committed, Learnings Ape
Is franticke imitation; and the Bough
That Crownes such VVriters, withers on their brow:
I gratulate thy Wedding; Loue doth guide
My friendly Muse, thus to salute thy Bride.
William Habington.
| The Wedding | |