BLISS court thee, sweetest soul, and fall as thick That it outwit our poor arithmetic! 'Mongst all those joys which from the holy shrine As you return'd the virgins gave, let mine, I pray, let entertainment, for they come To sing in your epithalamium. O, prove so happy in thy nuptial, That when, beleaguer'd, slow-faith virgins shall Cruelly deliberate, and refuse The rights of Hvmen, all our youths may use This rare stratagem: tell them but a story Of thy blest bridal's fortune, and their glory Which must so hale them, that they straight will be All wives, in hope to be as blest as thee. Heaven send a sweet-fac'd heir, a chopping boy, To make thee sport at home! O, what joy 'Twould be to view both your portraitures done So rarely to the life, and that in one! In thee both soul and body are Equally noble, rich, and fair. Outward and inward graces kiss, 'Cause virtue is alone thy bliss. Nor is this stol'n or borrow'd fame: Thy praise is all thine own -- thy name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE FOOLIN' WID DE SEASONS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CROTALUS by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE BARD'S ANNUAL DEFIANCE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE HANDSOME KNIGHT by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II |