T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Epithalamium
By Ben Jonson (15721637)(From The Masque of Hymen, 1616) |
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 |