So to my Lover I’d my Heart resign,
The Conquest his, the Glory should be mine. 
With mutual Love my Nuptials shou’d be Blest, }
Then to my Arms I’d call the Welcome Guest, }
And Celebrate with Joy great Hymen’s Feast. }

Marriage is Bondage, but where Cupid Reigns,
The Yoke is easie; Glorious are the Chains: 
His Fetters please, nor wish we to be Free,
But Glory in the Loss of Liberty: 
And yet but half our Thanks we owe the Boy,
He gives us Love, ’tis Hymen gives us Joy;
Well might the Poets feign those Gods a-kin,
For we are only Happy where they join. 
As when Aurora does the Bridal Morn,
With an uncommon Gayety Adorn
From its Illustrious Pride with ease we may
Foretel the Brightness of the coming Day: 
So when true Love the Sacred Tye precedes,
Secure of Happiness that Couple weds;
No Threat’ning Storms do e’er Molest their Joy,
Nor Anxious Quarrels do their Peace destroy;
Their days slide on in the securest ease,
And Circle in Eternal Rounds of Bliss.

Blest in my Wish thus far, my next should be,
(For I Melissa, wou’d live far and free
From the vile Tumults of this viler Town)
To have some little Cottage of my own;
No Spacious, but a Pleasant Country Seat,
Where the Gay Spring shou’d smile on our Retreat;
Delightful Gardens shou’d the Structure Bound,
All Love within, and Innocence around;
Adorn’d with Fruit-Trees curious to the Eye,
With streaming Fountains, and a River nigh;
Where, low-grown Willows do recline their head,
And o’er its fall their Meeting Branches spread,
As tho’ they were by careful Nature hung, }
To listen and regard its Murm’ring Song, }
Whose Silver current as it glides along; }
Does wash the Bank of some Delightful Grove,
Fragrant beneath, and shaded all above;
Where the fresh Seasons breathe their vital Air,
And pretty Birds with untaught Songs repair;
Where spreading Pines, and taller Poplars grow,
Young Elms that do a pleasing Prospect show. 
Where Bow’rs of Yew, and twisted Hazles stand,
With cluster’d Filberts to invite the hand;
A Place by Nature fram’d to feast the Mind,
By Art for Solitude and Love design’d;
Where we wou’d walk, and waste our idler hours,
Gather the luscious Fruits and various Flowers,
Crop from their stalks the Columbine and Rose, }
And from its Branch, the juicy Peach unlose, }
And ev’ry Sweet of Nature should it self disclose. }

So the first Pair, of Innocence possest,
Were in their Native EDEN truly Blest;
At large they rang’d o’er all the flow’ry Land,
And pluck’d their Food from Nature’s lib’ral Hand: 
Tripp’d o’er the Soil, and to the Fountains ran. 
The Happy Woman She, and He the Happy Man.