Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace, (So poets sing) was present on the place: And lovely Venus, goddess of delight, Shook high her flaming torch in open sight, And danced around, and smiled on every knight: 330 Pleased her best servant would his courage try, No less in wedlock than in liberty. Full many an age old Hymen had not spied So kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride. Ye bards! renown'd among the tuneful throng For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song, Think not your softest numbers can display The matchless glories of this blissful day; The joys are such as far transcend your rage, When tender youth has wedded stooping age. 340
The beauteous dame sat smiling at the board, And darted amorous glances at her lord. Not Hester's self, whose charms the Hebrews sing, E'er look'd so lovely on her Persian king: Bright as the rising sun in summer's day, And fresh and blooming as the month of May! The joyful knight survey'd her by his side, Nor envied Paris with his Spartan bride: Still as his mind revolved with vast delight Th' entrancing raptures of th' approaching night, 350 Restless he sat, invoking every power To speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour. Meantime the vigorous dancers beat the ground, And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round. With odorous spices they perfumed the place, And mirth and pleasure shone in every face.
Damian alone, of all the menial train, Sad in the midst of triumphs, sigh'd for pain; Damian alone, the knight's obsequious squire, Consumed at heart, and fed a secret fire. 360 His lovely mistress all his soul possess'd, He look'd, he languish'd, and could take no rest: His task perform'd, he sadly went his way, Fell on his bed, and loath'd the light of day: There let him lie; till his relenting dame Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.
The weary sun, as learnèd poets write, Forsook th' horizon, and roll'd down the light; While glittering stars his absent beams supply. And night's dark mantle overspread the sky. 370 Then rose the guests, and, as the time required, Each paid his thanks, and decently retired.
The foe once gone, our knight prepared t' undress, So keen he was, and eager to possess; But first thought fit th' assistance to receive, Which grave physicians scruple not to give: Satyrion near, with hot eringoes stood, Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood, Whose use old bards describe in luscious rhymes, And critics learn'd explain to modern times. 380