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Consult with those, and be of better cheer;
Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.'

So said, they rose, nor more the work delay'd:
The match was offer'd, the proposals made.
The parents, you may think, would soon comply;
The old have interest ever in their eye.

Nor was it hard to move the lady's mind; When fortune favours, still the fair are kind. I pass each previous settlement and deed, Too long for me to write, or you to read; Nor will with quaint impertinence display The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array. The time approach'd; to church the parties went, At once with carnal and devout intent:

Forth came the priest, and bade the' obedient wife, Like Sarah or Rebecca lead her life;"

Then pray'd the pow'rs the fruitful bed to bless, And made all sure enough with holiness.

And now the palace gates are open'd wide, The guests appear in order, side by side, And,plac'd in state, the bridegroom and the bride. The breathing flute's soft notes are heard around,' And the shrill trumpets mix their silver sound; The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring, These touch the vocal stops, and those the trembling Not thus Amphion tun'd the warbling lyre, [string. Nor Joab the sounding clarion could inspire, Nor fierce Theodamas, whose sprightly strain Could swell the soul to rage,and fire the martial train. Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace, (So poets sing) was present on the place: And lovely Venus, goddess of delight, Shook high her flaming torch in open sight,

And danc'd around, and smil'd on every knight:

Pleas'd her best servant would his courage try,
No less in wedlock, than in liberty.

Full many an age old Hymen had not spied
So kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride.
Ye bards! renown'd among the tuneful throng
For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song,
Think not your softest numbers can display
The matchless glories of this blissful day;
The joys are such as far transcend your rage,
When tender youth has wedded stooping age.
The beauteous dame sat smiling at the board,
And darted amorous glances at her lord.
Not Hester's self, whose charms the Hebrews sing,
E'er look'd so lovely on her Persian king:
Bright as the rising sun, in summer's day,
And fresh and blooming as the month of May !
The joyful knight survey'd her by his side,
Nor envied Paris with the Spartan bride :
Still as his mind revolv'd with vast delight...
The' entrancing raptures of the' approaching night,
Restless he sat, invoking every pow'r

To speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour.
Meantime the vigorous dancers beat the ground,
And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round.
With odorous spices they perfum'd the place,
And mirth and pleasure shone in every face.
Damian alone, of all the menial train,
Sad in the midst of triumphs, sigh'd for pain;
Damian alone, the knight's obsequious 'squire,
Consum'd at heart, and fed a secret fire.
His lovely mistress all his soul possess'd,
He look'd, he languish'd, and could take no rest:
His task perform'd, he sadly went his way,
Fell on his bed, and loath'd the light of day :-

There let him lie; till his relenting dame
Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.
The weary sun, as learned poets write,
Forsook the horizon, and roll'd down the light;
While glittering stars his absent beams supply,
And night's dark mantle overspread the sky.
Then rose the guests, and as the time requir'd,
Each paid his thanks, and decently retir'd.

The foe once gone, our knight prepar❜d to' undress, So keen he was, and eager to possess;

But first thought fit the' assistance to receive,
Which grave physicians scruple not to give :
Satyrion near, with hot eringoes stood,
Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood,

Whose use old bards describe in luscious rhymes,
And critics learn'd explain to modern times.

By this the sheets were spread, the bride undress'd,

The room was sprinkled, and the bed was bless'd.
What next ensued beseems not me to say;
'Tis sung, he labour'd till the dawning day,
Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light,
As all were nothing he had done by night,
And sipp'd his cordial as he sat upright.
He kiss'd his balmy spouse with wanton play,
And feebly sung a lusty roundelay:

Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast;
For every labour must have rest at last.

But anxious cares the pensive 'squire oppress'd,
Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forsook his breast;
The raging flames that in his bosom dwell,
He wanted art to hide, and means to tell:
Yet hoping time the' occasion might betray,
Compos'd a sonnet to the lovely May;

Which, writ and folded with the nicest art,
He wrapt in silk, and laid upon his heart.

;

When now the fourth revolving day was run,
("Twas June, and Cancer had receiv'd the sun)
Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride,
The good old knight mov'd slowly by her side.
High mass was sung; they feasted in the hall
The servants round stood ready at their call.
The 'squire alone was absent from the board,
And much his sickness griev'd his worthy lord,
Who pray'd his spouse, attended with her train,
To visit Damian, and divert his pain.

'The' obliging dames obey'd with one consent;
They left the hall, and to his lodging went.
The female tribe surround him as he lay,
And close beside him sat the gentle May:
Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly drew
A heaving sigh, and cast a mournful view!
Then gave his bill, and brib'd the pow'rs divine,
With secret vows, to favour his design.

Who studies now but discontented May?
On her soft couch uneasily she lay :

The lumpish husband snor'd away the night,
Till coughs awak'd him near the morning light.
What then be did, I'll not presume to tell,
Nor if she thought herself in heav'n or hell:
Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay,
Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray.
Were it by forceful destiny decreed,
Or did from chance or nature's pow'r proceed;
Or that some star, with aspect kind to love,
Shed its selectest influence from above;
Whatever was the cause, the tender dame
Felt the first motions of an infant flame;
YOL. III.

Receiv'd the' impressions of the love-sick 'squire, And wasted in the soft infectious fire.

Ye fair, draw near, let May's example move Your gentle minds to pity those who love! Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found, The poor adorer sure had hang'd, or drown'd; But she, your sex's mirror, free from pride, Was much too meek to prove a homicide.

But to my tale :-Some sages have defin'd Pleasure the sovereign bliss of humankind : Our knight (who studied much, we may suppose) Deriv'd his high philosophy from those; For, like a prince, he bore the vast expense Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence: His house was stately, his retinue gay, Large, was his train, and gorgeous his array. His spacious garden, made to yield to none, Was compass'd round with walls of solid stone; Priapus could not half describe the grace (Though god of gardens) of this charming place: A place to tire the rambling wits of France In long descriptions, and exceed romance : Enough to shame the gentlest bard that sings Of painted meadows, and of purling springs, Full in the centre of the flowery ground A crystal fountain spread its streams around, The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown'd: About this spring (if ancient fame say true) The dapper elves their moon-light sports pursue : Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen, In circling dances gambol'd on the green, While tuneful sprites a merry concert made, And airy music warbled through the shade. Hither the noble knight would oft repair, (His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care;)

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