GLAD time is at his point arrived, | |
| For which love’s hopes were so long lived. | |
| Lead, Hymen, lead away; | |
| And let no object stay, | |
| Nor banquets, but sweet kisses, | 5 |
| The turtles from their blisses. | |
| ’Tis Cupid calls to arm: | |
| And this his last alarm. | |
| |
| Shrink not, soft virgin, you will love, | |
| Anon, what you so fear to prove. | 10 |
| This is no killing war, | |
| To which you pressed are; | |
| But fair and gentle strife, | |
| Which lovers call their life. | |
| ’Tis Cupid cries, to arm; | 15 |
| And this his last alarm. | |
| |
| Help, youths and virgins, help to sing | |
| The prize which Hymen here doth bring. | |
| And did so lately rap | |
| From forth the mother’s lap, | 20 |
| To place her by that side | |
| Where she must long abide. | |
| On Hymen, Hymen call, | |
| This night is Hymen’s all. | |
| |
| See! Hesperus is yet in view. | 25 |
| What star can so deserve of you? | |
| Whose light doth still adorn | |
| Your bride, that, ere the morn, | |
| Shall far more perfect be, | |
| And rise as bright as he; | 30 |
| When, like to him, her name | |
| Is changed, but not her flame. | |
| |
| Haste, tender lady, and adventure; | |
| The covetous house would have you enter, | |
| That it might wealthy be, | 35 |
| And you, her mistress, see: | |
| Haste your own good to meet; | |
| And lift your golden feet | |
| Above the threshold high, | |
| With prosperous augury. | 40 |
| |
| Now, youths, let go your pretty arms; | |
| The place within chants other charms. | |
| Whole showers of roses flow; | |
| And violets seem to grow, | |
| Strew’d in the chamber there, | 45 |
| As Venus’ mead it were. | |
| On Hymen, Hymen call, | |
| This night is Hymen’s all. | |
| |
| Good matrons, that so well are known | |
| To aged husbands of your own, | 50 |
| Place you our bride to night; | |
| And snatch away the light: | |
| That she not hide it dead | |
| Beneath her spouse’s bed; | |
| Nor he reserve the same | 55 |
| To help the funeral flame. | |
| |
| So! now you may admit him in; | |
| The act he covets is no sin, | |
| But chaste and holy love, | |
| Which Hymen doth approve: | 60 |
| Without whose hallowing fires | |
| All aims are base desires. | |
| On Hymen, Hymen call, | |
| This night is Hymen’s all. | |
| |
| Now free from vulgar spite or noise, | 65 |
| May you enjoy your mutual joys; | |
| Now, you no fear controls, | |
| But lips may mingle souls; | |
| And soft embraces bind | |
| To each the other’s mind, | 70 |
| Which may no power untie, | |
| Till one or both must die! | |
| |
| And look, before you yield to slumber, | |
| That your delights be drawn past number; | |
| Joys, got with strife, increase. | 75 |
| Affect no sleepy peace; | |
| But keep the bride’s fair eyes | |
| Awake with her own cries, | |
| Which are but maiden fears: | |
| And kisses dry such tears. | 80 |
| |
| Then coin them ’twixt your lips so sweet, | |
| And let not cockles closer meet; | |
| Nor may your murmuring loves | |
| Be drown’d by Cypris’ doves: | |
| Let ivy not so bind | 85 |
| As when your arms are twined: | |
| That you may both ere day, | |
| Rise perfect every way. | |
| |
| And, Juno, whose great powers protect | |
| The marriage-bed, with good effect, | 90 |
| The labour of this night | |
| Bless thou, for future light: | |
| And thou, thy happy charge, | |
| Glad Genius, enlarge; | |
| That they may both, ere day, | 95 |
| Rise perfect, ev’ry way. | |
| |
| And Venus, thou, with timely seed, | |
| Which may their after-comforts breed, | |
| Inform the gentle womb; | |
| Nor let it prove a tomb: | 100 |
| But, ere ten moons be wasted, | |
| The birth, by Cynthia hasted. | |
| So may they both, ere day, | |
| Rise perfect every way. | |
| |
| And, when the babe to light is shown, | 105 |
| Let it be like each parent known; | |
| Much of the father’s face, | |
| More of the mother’s grace; | |
| And either grandsire’s spirit, | |
| And fame, let it inherit. | 110 |
| That men may bless th’ embraces, | |
| That joined two such races. | |
| |
| Cease, youths and virgins, you have done; | |
| Shut fast the door: and as they soon | |
| To their perfection haste, | 115 |
| So may their ardours last. | |
| So either’s strength out-live | |
| All loss that age can give: | |
| And, though full years be told, | |
| Their forms grow slowly old. | 120 |
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