To Songs At the Marriage Of The Lord Fauconberg And The Lady Mary Cromwell by Andrew Marvell
[Chorus. Endymion. Luna.]
Chorus. Th' Astrologers own Eyes are set, And even Wolves the Sheep forget; Only this Shepherd, late and soon, Upon this Hill outwakes the Moon. Heark how he sings, with sad delight, Thorough the clear and silent Night.
Endymion Cynthia, O Cynthia, turn thine Ear, nor scorn Endymions plaints to hear. As we our Flocks, so you command The fleecy Clouds with silver wand.
Cynthia If thou a Mortal, rather sleep; Or if a Shepherd, watch thy Sheep.
Endmymion The Shepherd, since he saw thine Eyes, And Sheep are both thy Sacrifice. Nor merits he a Mortal's name, That burns with an immortal Flame.
Cynthia I have enough for me to do, Ruling the Waves that Ebb and Flow.
Endymion Since thou disdain'st not then to share On Sublunary things thy Care; Rather restrain these double Seas, Mine Eyes uncessant deluges.
Cynthia My wakeful Lamp all night must move, Securing their Repose above.
Endymion If therefore thy resplendent Ray Can make a Night more bright then Day; Shine thorough this obscurer Brest, With shades of deep Despair opprest. Chorus. Courage, Endymion, boldly Woo, Anchises was a Shepheard too: Yet is her younger Sister laid Sporting with him in Ida's shade: And Cynthia, though the strongest, Seeks but the honour to have held out longest.
Endymion Here unto Latmos Top I climbe: How far below thine Orbe sublime? O why, as well as Eyes to see, Have I not Armes that reach to thee?
Cynthia 'Tis needless then that I refuse, Would you but your own Reason use.
Endymion Though I so high may not pretend, It is the same so you descend.
Cynthia These Stars would say I do them wrong, Rivals each one for thee too strong.
Endymion The Stars are fix'd unto their Sphere, And cannot, though they would, come near. Less Loves set of each others praise, While Stars Eclypse by mixing Rayes.
Cynthia That Cave is dark.
Endymion Then none can spy: Or shine Thou there and 'tis the Sky.
Chorus. Joy to Endymion, For he has Cynthia's favour won. And Jove himself approves With his serenest influence their Loves. For he did never love to pair His Progeny above the Air; But to be honest, valiant, wise, Makes Mortals matches fit for Deityes.
[Hobbinol. Phillis. Tomalin.]
Hobbinol Phillis, Tomalin, away: Never such a merry day. For the Northern Shepheards Son Has Menalca's daughter won.
Phillis Stay till I some flow'rs ha'ty'd In a Garland for the Bride.
Tomalin If Thou would'st a Garland bring, Philiis you may wait the Spring: They ha' chosen such an hour When She is the only flow'r.
Phillis Let's not then at least be seen Without each a Sprig of Green.
Hobbinol Fear not; at Menalca's Hall There is Bayes enough for all. He when Young as we did graze, But when Old he planted Bayes.
Tomalin Here She comes; but with a Look Far more catching then my Hook. 'Twas those Eyes, I now dare swear, Led our Lambs we knew not where.
Hobbinol Not our Lambs own Fleeces are Curl'd so lovely as her Hair: Nor our Sheep new Wash'd can be Half so white or sweet as She.
Phillis He so looks as fit to keep Somewhat else then silly Sheep.
Hobbinol Come, lets in some Carol new Pay to Love and Them their due.
All. Joy to that happy Pair, Whose Hopes united banish our Despair. What Shepheard could for Love pretend, Whil'st all the Nymphs on Damon's choice attend? What Shepherdess could hope to wed Before Marina's turn were sped? Now lesser Beauties may take place, And meaner Virtues come in play; While they, Looking from high, Shall grace Our Flocks and us with a propitious Eye. But what is most, the gentle Swain No more shall need of Love complain; But Virtue shall be Beauties hire, And those be equal that have equal Fire. Or who despair, now Damon does enjoy? Marina yields. Who dares be coy? Joy to that happy Pair, Whose Hopes united banish our Despair.