A Nuptial Song Or Epithalamy On Sir Clipseby Crew And His Lady.

What's that we see from far? the spring of day     Bloom'd from the east, or fair enjewell'd May     Blown out of April, or some new     Star filled with glory to our view,     Reaching at heaven,     To add a nobler planet to the seven?     Say, or do we not descry     Some goddess in a cloud of tiffany     To move, or rather the     Emergent Venus from the sea?     'Tis she! 'tis she! or else some more divine     Enlightened substance; mark how from the shrine     Of holy saints she paces on,     Treading upon vermilion     And amber: spic-     ing the chaft air with fumes of Paradise.     Then come on, come on and yield     A savour like unto a blessed field     When the bedabbled morn     Washes the golden ears of corn.     See where she comes; and smell how all the street     Breathes vineyards and pomegranates: O how sweet!     As a fir'd altar is each stone,     Perspiring pounded cinnamon.     The ph[oe]nix' nest,     Built up of odours, burneth in her breast.     Who, therein, would not consume     His soul to ash-heaps in that rich perfume?     Bestroking fate the while     He burns to embers on the pile.     Hymen, O Hymen! tread the sacred ground;     Show thy white feet and head with marjoram crown'd:     Mount up thy flames and let thy torch     Display the bridegroom in the porch,     In his desires     More towering, more disparkling than thy fires:     Show her how his eyes do turn     And roll about, and in their motions burn     Their balls to cinders: haste     Or else to ashes he will waste.     Glide by the banks of virgins, then, and pass     The showers of roses, lucky four-leav'd grass:     The while the cloud of younglings sing     And drown ye with a flowery spring;     While some repeat     Your praise and bless you, sprinkling you with wheat;     While that others do divine,     Bless'd is the bride on whom the sun doth shine;     And thousands gladly wish     You multiply as doth a fish.     And, beauteous bride, we do confess y'are wise     In dealing forth these bashful jealousies:     In love's name do so; and a price     Set on yourself by being nice:     But yet take heed;     What now you seem be not the same indeed,     And turn apostate: love will,     Part of the way be met or sit stone-still.     On, then, and though you slow-     ly go, yet, howsoever, go.     And now y'are entered; see the coddled cook     Runs from his torrid zone to pry and look     And bless his dainty mistress: see     The aged point out, "This is she     Who now must sway     The house (love shield her) with her yea and nay":     And the smirk butler thinks it     Sin in's napery not to express his wit;     Each striving to devise     Some gin wherewith to catch your eyes.     To bed, to bed, kind turtles, now, and write     This the short'st day, and this the longest night;     But yet too short for you: 'tis we     Who count this night as long as three,     Lying alone,     Telling the clock strike ten, eleven, twelve, one.     Quickly, quickly then prepare,     And let the young men and the bride-maids share     Your garters; and their joints     Encircle with the bridegroom's points.     By the bride's eyes, and by the teeming life     Of her green hopes, we charge ye that no strife     (Farther than gentleness tends) gets place     Among ye, striving for her lace:     O do not fall     Foul in these noble pastimes, lest ye call     Discord in, and so divide     The youthful bridegroom and the fragrant bride:     Which love forfend; but spoken     Be't to your praise, no peace was broken.     Strip her of springtime, tender-whimpering maids,     Now autumn's come, when all these flowery aids     Of her delays must end; dispose     That lady-smock, that pansy, and that rose     Neatly apart,     But for prick-madam and for gentle-heart,     And soft maidens'-blush, the bride     Makes holy these, all others lay aside:     Then strip her, or unto her     Let him come who dares undo her.     And to enchant ye more, see everywhere     About the roof a siren in a sphere,     As we think, singing to the din     Of many a warbling cherubin.     O mark ye how     The soul of nature melts in numbers: now     See, a thousand Cupids fly     To light their tapers at the bride's bright eye.     To bed, or her they'll tire,     Were she an element of fire.     And to your more bewitching, see, the proud     Plump bed bear up, and swelling like a cloud,     Tempting the two too modest; can     Ye see it brusle like a swan,     And you be cold     To meet it when it woos and seems to fold     The arms to hug it? Throw, throw     Yourselves into the mighty overflow     Of that white pride, and drown     The night with you in floods of down.     The bed is ready, and the maze of love     Looks for the treaders; everywhere is wove     Wit and new mystery; read, and     Put in practice, to understand     And know each wile,     Each hieroglyphic of a kiss or smile;     And do it to the full; reach     High in your own conceit, and some way teach     Nature and art one more     Play than they ever knew before.     If needs we must for ceremony's sake,     Bless a sack-posset, luck go with it, take     The night-charm quickly, you have spells     And magics for to end, and hells     To pass; but such     And of such torture as no one would grutch     To live therein for ever: fry     And consume, and grow again to die     And live, and, in that case,     Love the confusion of the place.     But since it must be done, despatch, and sew     Up in a sheet your bride, and what if so     It be with rock or walls of brass     Ye tower her up, as Danae was;     Think you that this     Or hell itself a powerful bulwark is?     I tell ye no; but like a     Bold bolt of thunder he will make his way,     And rend the cloud, and throw     The sheet about like flakes of snow.     All now is hushed in silence: midwife-moon     With all her owl-eyed issue begs a boon,     Which you must grant; that's entrance; with     Which extract, all we can call pith     And quintessence     Of planetary bodies, so commence,     All fair constellations     Looking upon ye, that two nations,     Springing from two such fires     May blaze the virtue of their sires.