T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Epithalamion Made at Lincoln’s Inn
By John Donne (1572–1631)| THE SUNBEAMS in the east are spread; | |
| Leave, leave, fair bride, your solitary bed; | |
| No more shall you return to it alone; | |
| It nurseth sadness, and your body’s print, | |
| Like to a grave, the yielding down doth dint; | 5 |
| You, and your other you, meet there anon. | |
| Put forth, put forth, that warm, balm-breathing thigh, | |
| Which when next time you in these sheets will smother, | |
| There it must meet another, | |
| Which never was, but must be, oft, more nigh. | 10 |
| Come glad from thence, go gladder than you came; | |
| To-day put on perfection, and a woman’s name. | |
| Daughters of London, you which be | |
| Our golden mines, and furnish’d treasury; | |
| You which are angels, yet still bring with you | 15 |
| Thousands of angels on your marriage days; | |
| Help with your presence, and devise to praise | |
| These rites, which also unto you grow due; | |
| Conceitedly dress her, and be assign’d | |
| By you fit place for every flower and jewel. | 20 |
| Make her for love fit fuel, | |
| As gay as Flora and as rich as Ind; | |
| So may she, fair and rich, in nothing lame, | |
| To-day put on perfection, and a woman’s name. | |
| And you frolic patricians, | 25 |
| Sons of those senators, wealth’s deep oceans; | |
| Ye painted courtiers, barrels of other’s wits; | |
| Ye countrymen, who but your breasts love none; | |
| Ye of those fellowships, whereof he’s one, | |
| Of study and play made strange hermaphrodites, | 30 |
| Here shine; this bridegroom to the temple bring. | |
| Lo, in yon path which store of strew’d flowers graceth, | |
| The sober virgin paceth; | |
| Weep not, nor blush, here is no grief nor shame, | |
| To-day put on perfection, and a woman’s name. | 35 |
| Thy two-leaved gates, fair temple, unfold, | |
| And these two in thy sacred bosom hold, | |
| Till mystically join’d but one they be; | |
| Then may thy lean and hunger-starved womb | |
| Long time expect their bodies, and their tomb, | 40 |
| Long after their own parents fatten thee. | |
| All elder claims, and all cold barrenness, | |
| All yielding to new loves, be far for ever, | |
| Which might these two dissever; | |
| Always, all th’ other may each one possess; | 45 |
| For the best bride, best worthy of praise and fame, | |
| To-day puts on perfection, and a woman’s name. | |
| Winter days bring much delight, | |
| Not for themselves, but for they soon bring night; | |
| Other sweets wait thee than these diverse meats, | 50 |
| Other disports than dancing jollities, | |
| Other love-tricks than glancing with the eyes, | |
| But that the sun still in our half sphere sweats; | |
| He flies in winter, but he now stands still. | |
| Yet shadows turn; noon point he hath attain’d; | 55 |
| His steeds will be restrain’d, | |
| But gallop lively down the western hill, | |
| Thou shalt, when he hath run the heaven’s half frame, | |
| To-night put on perfection, and a woman’s name. | |
| The amorous evening star is rose, | 60 |
| Why then should not our amorous star inclose | |
| Herself in her wish’d bed? Release your strings, | |
| Musicians; and dancers take some trace | |
| With these your pleasing labours, for great use | |
| As much weariness as perfection brings | 65 |
| You, and not only you, but all toil’d beasts | |
| Rest daily; at night all their toils are dispensed; | |
| But in their beds commenced | |
| Are other labours, and more dainty feasts, | |
| She goes a maid, who, lest she turn the same, | 70 |
| To-night puts on perfection, and a woman’s name. | |
| Thy virgin’s girdle now untie, | |
| And in thy nuptial bed, love’s altar, lie | |
| A pleasing sacrifice; now dispossess | |
| Thee of these chains and robes, which were put on | 75 |
| To adorn the day, not thee; for thou, alone, | |
| Like virtue and truth, art best in nakedness. | |
| This bed is only to virginity | |
| A grave, but to a better state, a cradle. | |
| Till now thou wast but able | 80 |
| To be, what now thou art; then, that by thee | |
| No more be said, “I may be,” but “I am,” | |
| To-night put on perfection, and a woman’s name. | |
| Even like a faithful man content, | |
| That this life for a better should be spent, | 85 |
| So she a mother’s rich stile doth prefer, | |
| And at the bridegroom’s wish’d approach doth lie, | |
| Like an appointed lamb, when tenderly | |
| The priest comes on his knees, to embowel her. | |
| Now sleep or watch with more joy; and, O light | 90 |
| Of heaven, to-morrow rise thou hot, and early; | |
| This sun will love so dearly | |
| Her rest, that long, long we shall want her sight. | |
| Wonders are wrought, for she, which had no main, | |
| To-night puts on perfection, and a woman’s name. | 95 |