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Force from the phoenix, then, no rarity

Of sex, to rob the creature; but from man, The king of creatures, take his parity

With angels, Muse, to speak these: nothing


Illustrate these, but they
Themselves to-day,

Who the whole act express;

All else, we see beside, are shadows, and go less.

It is their grace and favor that makes seen,
And wondered at the bounties of this day;
All is a story of the king and queen;
And what of dignity and honor may
Be duly done to those

Whom they have chose,

And set the mark upon,

To give a greater name and title to- their


Weston, their treasure, as their treasurer, That mine of wisdom, and of counsels deep, Great, 'say-master of state, who cannot err, But doth his carat, and just standard keep, In all the proved assays,

And legal ways

Of trials, to work down.

Men's loves unto the laws, and laws to love the


And this well moved the judgment of the king
To pay with honors to his noble son
To-day, the father's service; who could bring
Him up, to do the same himself had done:
That far all-seeing eye

Could soon espy

What kind of waking man

He had so highly set; and in what barbican.

Stand there; for when a noble nature's raised, It brings friends joy, foes grief, posterity


In him the times, no less than prince, are praised, And by his rise, in active men, his name

Doth emulation stir;

To the dull a spur

It is; to the envious meant

A mere upbraiding grief, and torturing punish


See! now the chapel opens, where the king And bishop stay to consummate the rites; The holy prelate prays, then takes the ring, Asks first, Who gives her?-I, Charlesthen he plights

One in the other's hand,

Whilst they both stand

Hearing their charge, and then

The solemn choir cries, Joy! and they return, Amen.

O happy bands! and thou more happy place,
Which to this use wert built and consecrate!
To have thy God to bless, thy king to grace,
And this their chosen bishop celebrate,
And knit the nuptial knot,

Which time shall not,

Or cankered jealousy,

With all corroding arts, be able to untie!

The chapel empties, and thou mayst be gone Now, sun, and post away the rest of day; These two, now Holy Church hath made them one, Do long to make themselves so another way: There is a feast behind,

To them of kind,

Which their glad parents taught

One to the other, long ere these to light were


Haste, haste, officious sun, and send them night Some hours before it should, that these may


All that their fathers and their mothers might
Of nuptial sweets, at such a season, owe,
To propagate their names,

And keep their fames

Alive, which else would die;

For fame keeps virtue up, and it posterity.

The ignoble never lived, they were awhile
Like swine, or other cattle here on earth;

Their names are not recorded on the file

Of life, that fall so; Christians know their


Alone, and such a race

We pray may grace,

Your fruitful spreading vine,

But dare not ask our wish in language fescennine.

Yet, as we may, we will; - with chaste desires,
The holy perfumes of the marriage bed,
Be kept alive, those sweet and sacred fires
Of love between you and your lovely-head;
That when you both are old,

You find no cold

There; but, renewed, say,

After the last child born, This is our wedding



you behold a race to fill your hall,

A Richard, and a Jerome, by their names

Upon a Thomas, or a Francis call;

A Kate, a Frank, to honor their grand-dames, And 'tween their grandsire's thighs,

Like pretty spies,

Peep forth a gem; to see

How each one plays his part, of the large pedigree! 114

114 These anticipations, unhappily, were not destined to be realized. Charles, the only male issue of this marriage, a young nobleman of great promise, entered the service of the

And never may there want one of the stem,
To be a watchful servant for this state;
But like an arm of eminence 'mongst them,
Extend a reaching virtue early and late!
Whilst the main tree still found
Upright and sound,

By this sun's noonstead's made

So great, his body now alone projects the shade.

They both are slipped to bed; shut fast the door,
And let him freely gather love's first-fruits;

He's master of the office; yet no more
Exacts than she is pleased to pay: no suits,
Strifes, murmurs, or delay,

Will last till day;

Night and the sheets will show

The longing couple all that elder lovers know.


Doth most humbly show it,

To your majesty, your poet:

That whereas your royal father,

James the blessed, pleased the rather,
Of his special grace to letters,

Duke of York, and was killed in an engagement with the
Dutch in 1665. He was succeeded by his uncle, the fourth
Earl of Portland, at whose death, about 1689, the title be-
came extinct.

- B.

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