96
Vpon the nuptials of
Charles, Lord Herbert,
and the Lady M. Villers.
Roses 'till ripe, and ready to be blowne,
Their beauty hide, whilst it is yet their owne;
'Tis ours but in expectance, whilst th'are greene;
And bashfully they blush when first 'tis seene:
As if to spread their beauty were a crime;
A fault in them, not in all-ripening-Time.
So stands (hidden with Vayles) in all her pride
Of early flourishing, the bashfull Bride!
And 'till the Priest, with words devoutly said,
Shall ripen her a Wife, that's yet a Maid,
Her Vaile will never off: so modest still,
And so express'd by Nature, not by skill,
Their beauty hide, whilst it is yet their owne;
'Tis ours but in expectance, whilst th'are greene;
And bashfully they blush when first 'tis seene:
As if to spread their beauty were a crime;
A fault in them, not in all-ripening-Time.
So stands (hidden with Vayles) in all her pride
Of early flourishing, the bashfull Bride!
And 'till the Priest, with words devoutly said,
Shall ripen her a Wife, that's yet a Maid,
Her Vaile will never off: so modest still,
And so express'd by Nature, not by skill,
That
