AN EPITHALAMIUM UPON THE MARRIAGE OF Capt. William Bedloe.
Ille ego qui quondam gracili modulatus Avena,
Arma virumque Cano. —
I, he, who Sung of Humble Oates before,
Now ſing a Captain and a Man of WAR.
GOddeſs of Rhime, that didſt inſpire
The Captain with Poetick fire,
Adding freſh Lawrells to that brow
Where thoſe of Victory did grow,
And ſtatelyer ornaments may flouriſh now.
If thou art well recover'd ſince
The Excommunicated Prince:
For that Important Tragedy,
Would have kill'd any Muſe but Thee;
Hither with ſpeed, oh! hither move,
Pull buskins off, and ſince to love
The ground is holy that you tread in,
Dance bare-foot at the Captains Wedding.
See where he comes, and by his ſide
His Charming fair Angelick Bride:
Such, or leſs lovely was the Dame
So much Renown'd, Fulvia by name,
With whom of old Tully did joyn,
Then when his Art did undermine,
The Horrid Popiſh Plot of Cateline.
Oh faireſt Nymph of all great Brittain
(Though the•my Eyes I never ſet on)
Bluſh not on thy great Lord to ſmile,
The ſecond Saviour of our Iſle;
What nobler Captain could have led,
Thee to thy long'd-for marriage bed:
For know that thy all-daring Will is
As ſtout a Hero as Achilles;
And as great things for thee has done,
As Palmerin or th' Knight of th' Sun,
And is himſelf a whole Romance alone.
Let conſcious Flanders ſpeak, and be,
The Witneſs of his Chivalry.
Yet that's not all, his very word
Has ſlain as many as his ſword:
Though common Bulleys with their Oaths
Hurt little till they come to blows,
Yet all his Mouth-Granadoes kill
And ſave the pains of drawing ſteel.
This Hero thy reſiſtleſs charms
Have won to fly into thy arms,
For think not any mean deſign
Or the inglorious itch of coyne,
Could ever have his breaſt contrould,
Or make him be a ſlave to Gold;
His Love's as freely given to Thee
As to the King his Loyalty.
Then oh receive thy mighty prize
With open arms and wiſhing eyes,
Kiſſe that dear face where may be ſeen
His worth and parts that ſculk within,
That face that juſtly ſtil'd may be
As true a Diſcoverer as He.
Think not he ever falſe will prove,
His well known truth ſecures his love;
Do you awhile divert his cares
From his important grand affairs:
Let him have reſpite now awhile
From kindling the mad rabbles zeal.
Zeal that is hot as fire, yet dark and blind
Shews plainly where its birth-place we may finde,
In hell, where tho' dire flames for ever glow
Yet 'tis the place of utter darkneſs too.
But to his bed be ſure be true
As he to all the World and you,
He all your plots will elſe betray
That your She-Machiavills can lay.
He all deſigns you know has found,
Tho hatch'd in Hell, or under ground;
Did oft to us ſuch ſecrets ſhew
As ſcarce the Plotters themſelves knew,
Yet if by chance you hap to ſin
And love while Honour's napping ſhou'd creep in.
Yet be diſcreet and do not boaſt
Oth' treaſon by the common poſt.
So ſhalt thou ſtill make him love on
All virtues in Diſcretion.
So thou with him ſhalt ſhine, and be
As great a Patriot as He;
And when, (as now in Chriſtmaſs all
For a new pack of Cards do call,)
Another Popiſh Pack comes out
To pleaſe the Cits, and charm the rout;
Thou mighty Queen ſhal't a whole Suit Command,
A Crown upon thy Head, and Sceptre in thy Hand.
FINIS.