Volume Ii Part 162 (2/2)

Ye sons of Venus, play your sports at will!

For greedy pleasure, careless of your toys, Thinks more upon her paradise of joys, Then what ye do, albeit good or ill.

All night therefore attend your merry play, For it will soon be day: Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing; Nor will the woods now answer, nor your echo ring.

Who is the same, which at my window peeps?

Or whose is that fair face that s.h.i.+nes so bright?

Is it not Cynthia, she that never sleeps, But walks about high heaven all the night?

O! fairest G.o.ddess, do thou not envy My love with me to spy: For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought, And for a fleece of wool, which privily The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought, His pleasures with thee wrought.

Therefore to us be favorable now; And since of women's labors thou hast charge, And generation goodly dost enlarge, Incline thy will to effect our wishful vow, And the chaste womb inform with timely seed, That may our comfort breed: Till which we cease our hopeful hap to sing; Nor let the woods us answer, nor our echo ring.

And thou, great Juno! which with awful might The laws of wedlock still dost patronize, And the religion of the faith first plight With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize; And eke for comfort often called art Of women in their smart; Eternally bind thou this lovely band, And all thy blessings unto us impart.

And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand The bridal bower and genial bed remain, Without blemish or stain; And the sweet pleasures of their love's delight With secret aid dost succor and supply, Till they bring forth the fruitful progeny; Send us the timely fruit of this same night.

And thou, fair Hebe! and thou, Hymen free!

Grant that it may so be.

Till which we cease your further praise to sing; Nor any woods shall answer, nor your echo ring.

And ye high heavens, the temple of the G.o.ds, In which a thousand torches flaming bright Do burn, that to us wretched earthly clods In dreadful darkness lend desired light; And all ye powers which in the same remain, More than we men can feign, Pour out your blessing on us plenteously, And happy influence upon us rain, That-we may raise a large posterity, Which from the earth, which they may long possess With lasting happiness, Up to your haughty palaces may mount; And, for the guerdon of their glorious merit, May heavenly tabernacles there inherit, Of blessed Saints for to increase the count.

So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this, And cease till then our timely joys to sing: The woods no more us answer, nor our echo ring!

Song! made in lieu of many ornaments, With which my love should duly have been decked, Which cutting off through hasty accidents, Ye would not stay your due time to expect, But promised both to recompense; Be unto her a goodly ornament, And for short time an endless monument.

Edmund Spenser [1552?-1599]

THE KISS

Before you kissed me only winds of heaven Had kissed me, and the tenderness of rain-- Now you have come, how can I care for kisses Like theirs again?

I sought the sea, she sent her winds to meet me, They surged about me singing of the south-- I turned my head away to keep still holy Your kiss upon my mouth.

And swift sweet rains of s.h.i.+ning April weather Found not my lips where living kisses are; I bowed my head lest they put out my glory As rain puts out a star.

I am my love's and he is mine forever, Sealed with a seal and safe forevermore-- Think you that I could let a beggar enter Where a king stood before?

Sara Teasdale [1884-1933]

MARRIAGE

Going my way of old Contented more or less I dreamt not life could hold Such happiness.

I dreamt not that love's way Could keep the golden height Day after happy day, Night after night.

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson [1878-

THE NEWLY-WEDDED

Now the rite is duly done, Now the word is spoken, And the spell has made us one Which may ne'er be broken; Rest we, dearest, in our home, Roam we o'er the heather: We shall rest, and we shall roam, Shall we not? together.

From this hour the summer rose Sweeter breathes to charm us; From this hour the winter snows Lighter fall to harm us: Fair or foul--on land or sea-- Come the wind or weather, Best and worst, whate'er they be, We shall share together.

Death, who friend from friend can part, Brother rend from brother, Shall but link us, heart and heart, Closer to each other: We will call his anger play, Deem his dart a feather, When we meet him on our way Hand in hand together.

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