Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Elizabethan Verse. 1907.

Epithalamium

Ben Jonson (1572–1637)

UP! youths and virgins! up, and praise

The God whose nights outshine his days!

Hymen, whose hallowed rites

Could never boast of brighter lights;

Whose bands pass liberty.

Two of your troop, that with the morn were free,

Are now waged to his war;

And what they are,

If you’ll perfection see,

Yourselves must be.

Shine, Hesperus! shine forth, thou wishèd star!

What joys or honours can compare

With holy nuptials, when they are

Made out of equal parts

Of years, of states, of hands, of hearts;

When in the happy choice

The spouse and spoused have foremost voice!

Such, glad of Hymen’s war,

Live what they are

And long perfection see:

And such ours be.

Shine, Hesperus! shine forth, thou wishèd star!

The solemn state of this one night

Were fit to last an age’s light;

But there are rites behind

Have less of state and more of kind:

Love’s wealthy crop of kisses,

And fruitful harvest of his mother’s blisses.

Sound then to Hymen’s war!

That what these are,

Who will perfection see

May haste to be.

Shine, Hesperus! shine forth, thou wishèd star!

Love’s Commonwealth consists of toys;

His Council are those antic boys,

Games, Laughter, Sports, Delights,

That triumph with him on these nights:

To whom we must give way,

For now their reign begins, and lasts till day.

They sweeten Hymen’s war,

And in that jar

Make all, that married be,

Perfection see.

Shine, Hesperus! shine forth, thou wishèd star!

Why stays the bridgegroom to invade

Her that would be a matron made?

Good-night! whilst yet we may

Good-night to you a virgin say.

To-morrow rise the same

Your mother is, and use a nobler name!

Speed well in Hymen’s war,

That what you are,

By your perfection, we

And all may see!

Shine, Hesperus! shine forth, thou wishèd star!

To-night is Venus’ vigil kept,

This night no bridegroom ever slept;

And if the fair bride do,

The married say ’tis his fault too.

Wake then, and let your lights

Wake too, for they’ll tell nothing of your nights,

But that in Hymen’s war

You perfect are;

And such perfection we

Do pray should be.

Shine, Hesperus! shine forth, thou wishèd star!

That, ere the rosy fingered Morn

Behold nine moons, there may be born

A babe to uphold the fame

Of Radcliffe’s blood and Ramsay’s name;

That may, in his great seed,

Wear the long honours of his father’s deed.

Such fruits of Hymen’s war

Most perfect are;

And all perfection we

Wish you should see.

Shine, Hesperus! shine forth, thou wishèd star!