To Sir Edward Nevil Baronet, upon his Marriage

Now, Sir, when your good Angel does rejoyce,
And looks down pleas'd upon your happy choice,
When Love and Beauty drest in all their charms,
Give up their only Darling to your Arms,
It may be thought Impertinence in Me,
To grate your Ears with worthless Poesie;
For while Love's sacred Musick charms the sense,
All other sounds are harsh and give offence;
And yet, alas! though conscious of my crime,
I still go on; a Slave condemn'd to rhime.
'Tis grown almost a Miracle to see
Two Natures form'd by Nature to agree;
Your lovely Bride, Chast, Courteous, Noble, Good,
And you, Sir, Eminent in Worth as Blood,
Just, Loyal, Brave; — but let me say no more,
Nor for a secret tell what all cou'd tell before.
Hail then, blest Pair! your Race of Love's begun,
And may you still be eager to love on;
May Pleasure flow, and, because all must tast
What sorrow is, may sorrow ebb as fast,
That this first day may be a Prologue to the last:
May long Life bless you, and a health as long;
And may you, too, be fruitful while y'are young,
That from your Loyns a Loyal Race may spring,
T' adorn their Country, and to serve their King.