Nay! This the great gods have long since decreed!

Less than this gift were lordship of wide fields,
Where slow-paced yoke and swain compel the corn;
Less, all rich gems the womb of India yields,
Where the flushed Ocean rims the shores of Morn.

Thy vow is granted! Lo! on pinions bright,
The Love-god comes, a yellow cincture bearing,
To bind thee ever to thy dear delight,
In nuptial knot, all other knots outwearing.

When wrinkles delve, and o'er the reverend brow
Fall silver locks and few, the bond shall be
But more endeared; and thou shall bless this vow
O'er children's children smiling at thy knee.




ELEGY THE THIRD

MY LADY RUSTICATES


To pleasures of the country-side
My lady-love is lightly flown;
And now in cities to abide
Betrays a heart of stone.