By this the sheets were spread, the bride undress'd, The room was sprinkled, and the bed was bless'd. What next ensued beseems not me to say; 'Tis sung, he labour'd till the dawning day, Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light, As all were nothing he had done by night, And sipp'd his cordial as he sat upright. He kiss'd his balmy spouse with wanton play, And feebly sung a lusty roundelay: Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast; 390 For every labour must have rest at last. But anxious cares the pensive squire oppress'd, Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forsook his breast; The raging flames that in his bosom dwell, He wanted art to hide, and means to tell: Yet hoping time th' occasion might betray, Composed a sonnet to the lovely May; Which, writ and folded with the nicest art, He wrapp'd in silk, and laid upon his heart. When now the fourth revolving day was run, 400 ('Twas June, and Cancer had received the sun), Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride; The good old knight moved slowly by her side. High mass was sung; they feasted in the hall; The servants round stood ready at their call The squire alone was absent from the board, And much his sickness grieved his worthy lord, Who pray'd his spouse, attended with her train, To visit Damian, and divert his pain. Th' obliging dames obey'd with one consent: 410 They left the hall, and to his lodging went. The female tribe surround him as he lay, And close beside him sat the gentle May: Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly drew A heaving sigh, and cast a mournful view! Then gave his bill, and bribed the Powers divine With secret vows, to favour his design. Who studies now but discontented May? On her soft couch uneasily she lay: 420 The lumpish husband snored away the night, Till coughs awaked him near the morning light. What then he did, I'll not presume to tell, Nor if she thought herself in heaven or hell: Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay, Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray. Were it by forceful destiny decreed, Or did from chance, or nature's power proceed; Or that some star, with aspect kind to love, Shed its selectest influence from above; Whatever was the cause, the tender dame 430 Felt the first motions of an infant flame; Received th' impressions of the love-sick squire, And wasted in the soft infectious fire. Ye fair, draw near, let May's example move Your gentle minds to pity those who love! Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found, The poor adorer sure had hang'd or drown'd; But she, your sex's mirror, free from pride, Was much too meek to prove a homicide.