An Epithalamy To Sir Thomas Southwell And His Lady.

I.     Now, now's the time, so oft by truth     Promis'd should come to crown your youth.     Then, fair ones, do not wrong     Your joys by staying long;     Or let love's fire go out,     By lingering thus in doubt;     But learn that time once lost     Is ne'er redeem'd by cost.     Then away; come, Hymen, guide     To the bed the bashful bride. II.     Is it, sweet maid, your fault these holy     Bridal rites go on so slowly?     Dear, is it this you dread     The loss of maidenhead?     Believe me, you will most     Esteem it when 'tis lost;     Then it no longer keep,     Lest issue lie asleep.     Then, away; come, Hymen, guide     To the bed the bashful bride. III.     These precious, pearly, purling tears     But spring from ceremonious fears.     And 'tis but native shame     That hides the loving flame,     And may a while control     The soft and am'rous soul;     But yet love's fire will waste     Such bashfulness at last.     Then, away; come, Hymen, guide     To the bed the bashful bride. IV.     Night now hath watch'd herself half blind,     Yet not a maidenhead resign'd!     'Tis strange, ye will not fly     To love's sweet mystery.     Might yon full moon the sweets     Have, promised to your sheets,     She soon would leave her sphere,     To be admitted there.     Then, away; come, Hymen, guide     To the bed the bashful bride. V.     On, on devoutly, make no stay;     While Domiduca leads the way,     And Genius, who attends     The bed for lucky ends.     With Juno goes the Hours     And Graces strewing flowers.     And the boys with sweet tunes sing:     Hymen, O Hymen, bring     Home the turtles; Hymen, guide     To the bed the bashful bride. VI.     Behold! how Hymen's taper-light     Shows you how much is spent of night.     See, see the bridegroom's torch     Half wasted in the porch.     And now those tapers five,     That show the womb shall thrive,     Their silv'ry flames advance,     To tell all prosp'rous chance     Still shall crown the happy life     Of the goodman and the wife. VII.     Move forward then your rosy feet,     And make whate'er they touch turn sweet.     May all, like flowery meads,     Smell where your soft foot treads;     And everything assume     To it the like perfume,     As Zephyrus when he 'spires     Through woodbine and sweetbriars.     Then, away; come, Hymen, guide     To the bed the bashful bride. VIII.     And now the yellow veil at last     Over her fragrant cheek is cast.     Now seems she to express     A bashful willingness:     Showing a heart consenting,     As with a will repenting.     Then gently lead her on     With wise suspicion;     For that, matrons say, a measure     Of that passion sweetens pleasure. IX.     You, you that be of her nearest kin,     Now o'er the threshold force her in.     But to avert the worst     Let her her fillets first     Knit to the posts, this point     Remembering, to anoint     The sides, for 'tis a charm     Strong against future harm;     And the evil deads, the which     There was hidden by the witch. X.     O Venus! thou to whom is known     The best way how to loose the zone     Of virgins, tell the maid     She need not be afraid,     And bid the youth apply     Close kisses if she cry,     And charge he not forbears     Her though she woo with tears.     Tell them now they must adventure,     Since that love and night bid enter. XI.     No fatal owl the bedstead keeps,     With direful notes to fright your sleeps;     No furies here about     To put the tapers out,     Watch or did make the bed:     'Tis omen full of dread;     But all fair signs appear     Within the chamber here.     Juno here far off doth stand,     Cooling sleep with charming wand. XII.     Virgins, weep not; 'twill come when,     As she, so you'll be ripe for men.     Then grieve her not with saying     She must no more a-maying,     Or by rosebuds divine     Who'll be her valentine.     Nor name those wanton reaks     You've had at barley-breaks,     But now kiss her and thus say,     "Take time, lady, while ye may". XIII.     Now bar the doors; the bridegroom puts     The eager boys to gather nuts.     And now both love and time     To their full height do climb:     Oh! give them active heat     And moisture both complete:     Fit organs for increase,     To keep and to release     That which may the honour'd stem     Circle with a diadem. XIV.     And now, behold! the bed or couch     That ne'er knew bride's or bridegroom's touch,     Feels in itself a fire;     And, tickled with desire,     Pants with a downy breast,     As with a heart possesst,     Shrugging as it did move     Ev'n with the soul of love.     And, oh! had it but a tongue,     Doves, 'twould say, ye bill too long. XV.     O enter then! but see ye shun     A sleep until the act be done.     Let kisses in their close,     Breathe as the damask rose,     Or sweet as is that gum     Doth from Panchaia come.     Teach nature now to know     Lips can make cherries grow     Sooner than she ever yet     In her wisdom could beget. XVI.     On your minutes, hours, days, months, years,     Drop the fat blessing of the spheres.     That good which heav'n can give     To make you bravely live     Fall like a spangling dew     By day and night on you.     May fortune's lily-hand     Open at your command;     With all lucky birds to side     With the bridegroom and the bride. XVII.     Let bounteous Fate[s] your spindles full     Fill, and wind up with whitest wool.     Let them not cut the thread     Of life until ye bid.     May death yet come at last,     And not with desp'rate haste,     But when ye both can say     "Come, let us now away,"     Be ye to the barn then borne,     Two, like two ripe shocks of corn.