On the Mariage of T. K. and C. C. the morning stormie.

SVch should this day be, so the Sun should hide
His bash full face, and let the conquering Bride
Without a Rivall shine, whilst He sorbeares
To mingle his unequall beames with hers;
Or if sometimes he glance his squinting eye
Betweene the parting cloudes, 'tis but to spye,
Not emulate her glories, so comes drest
In vayles, but as a Masquer to the feast.
Thus heaven should lower, such stormy gusts should blow
Not to denounce ungentle Fates, but show
The cheerefull Bridegroome to the clouds and wind
Hath all his teares, and all his sighes assign'd.
Let Tempests struggle in the Ayre, but rest
Eternall calmes within thy peacefull brest.
Thrice happy Youth; but ever sacrifice
To that fayre hand that dry'de thy blubbred eyes,
That cround thy head with Roses, and turn'd all
The plagues of love into a cordiall,
When first it joyn'd her Virgin snow to thinè,
Which when to day the Priest shall recombine,
From the misterious holy touch such charmes
Will flow, as shall unlock her wreathed armes,
And open a free passage to that fruit
Which thou hast toyl'd for with a long pursuie.
But ere thou feed, that thou may'st better taste
Thy present joyes, thinke on thy torments past.
Thinke on the mercy freed thee, thinke upon
Her vertues, graces, beauties, one by one,
So shalt thou relish all, enjoy the whole
Delights of her faire body, and pure soule.
Then boldly to the fight of Love proceed,
'Tis mercy not to pitty though she bleed,
Wee'le strew no nuts, but change that ancient forme,
For till to morrow wee'le prorogue this storme.
Which shall confound with its loude whistling noyse
Her pleasing shreekes, and fan thy panting joyes.