Say, Mighty Love, and teach my Song

To whom thy Sweetest Joys belong,

And who the Happy Pairs

Whose Yielding Hearts and Joyning Hands

Find Blessings twisted with their Bands

To soften all their Cares.

Not the Wild Herd of Nymphs and Swains

That thoughtless fly into the Chains

As Custom leads the way:

If there be Bliss without Design,

Ivys and Oaks may grow and twine,

And be as Blest as they.

Not Sordid Souls, whose Earthly Mould

Drawn by Congenial Charms of Gold

To dull Embraces move:

So two Rich Mountains of Peru

May rush to Wealthy Marriage too,

And make a World of Love.

Not the Mad Tribe that Hell inspires

With Wanton Flames; those raging Fires

The Purer Bliss destroy:

On Aetna's top let Furies Wed,

And Sheets of Lightning dress the Bed

T'improve the Burning Joy.

Nor the Dull Pairs whose Marble Forms

None of the melting Passions warms,

Can mingle Hearts and Hands:

Logs of green Wood that quench the Coals

Are Married just like Stoick Souls,

With Oysters for their Bands.

Not Minds of Melancholy Strain

Still Silent, or that still Complain,

Can the dear Bondage bless:

As well may Heavenly Consorts spring

From two old Lutes with ne're a String,

Or none beside the Bass.

Nor can the soft Enchantments hold

Two Jarring Souls of Angry Mould,

The Rugged, and the Keen:

Sampson's young Foxes might as well

In Bonds of Cheerful Wedlock dwell

With Fire-brands ty'd between.

Nor let the Cruel Fetters bind

A Gentle to a Savage Mind;

For Love abhors the Sight:

Loose the fierce Tyger from the Deer,

For native Rage and native Fear

Stand and forbid Delight.

Two Kindest Souls alone must meet;

'Tis Friendship makes the Bondage sweet,

And feeds their mutual Loves:

Bright Venus on her Rolling Throne

Is drawn by gentlest Birds alone,

And Cupids Yoke the Doves.