Glen Collection of printed music > Printed music > Wit and mirth, or, Pills to purge melancholy > Volume 3

Pleasant and Diver tive. 69
Her Sweat, like Honey-drops did fall,
And Stings of Beauty pierc'd us all,
Her shape was so exact ;
Of Wax she seemed fram'd alive,
But had her Gown too been a Hive,
How Bees had thither flock'd.
Thus envious Time prolong' d the Day,
And stretch'd the Prologue to the Play,
Long stopp'd the sluggish Watch ;
At last a Voice came from above,
Which call'd the Bridegroom and his Love,
To Consummate the Match.
But (as if Heav'n wou'd it retard)
A Banquet comes, like the Night-Guard,
Which stay'd them half the Night ;
The Bridegroom then with's Men retir'd,
The Train was laying to be fir'd,
He went his Match to light.
When he return'd, his Hopes was crown'd,
An Angel in the Bed he found,
So glorious was her Face ;
Amaz'd he stopt but then, quoth He,
Tho' 'tis an Angel, 'tis a She,
And leap'd into his Place.
Thus lay the Man with Heav'n in's Arms,
Bless'd with a Thousand pleasing Charms,
In Raptures of Delight ;
Reaping at once, and Sowing Joys,
For Beauty's Manna never cloys,
Nor fills the Appetite.
But what was done, sure was no more,
Than that which had been done before,
When she her self was Made ;
Something was lost, which none found out,
And He that had it cou'd not shew't,
Sure 'tis a Jugling Trade.