Here shine; This Bridegroom to the Temple bring.
Loe, in yon path which store of straw'd flowers graceth,
The sober virgin paceth;
Except my sight faile, 'tis no other thing;
35Weep not nor blush, here is no griefe nor shame,
To day put on perfection, and a womans name.
Thy two-leav'd gates faire Temple unfold,
And these two in thy sacred bosome hold,
Till, mystically joyn'd, but one they bee;
40Then may thy leane and hunger-starved wombe