The earth did fresh aray; So fresh they seem'd as day, Even as their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. 71 Then forth they all out of their baskets drew Great store of Flowers, the honour of the field, That to the sense did fragrant odours yeild, All which upon those goodly Birds they threw And all the Waves did strew, That like old Peneus Waters they did seeme, When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore, Scattred with Flowres, through Thessaly they streeme, That they appeare, through Lillies plenteous store, Like a Brydes Chamber flore. Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found, The which presenting all in trim Array, Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd, Whil'st one did sing this Lay, Prepar'd against that Day, Against their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. 90 "Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament, And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower Doth leade unto your lovers blisfull bower, Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content Of your loves couplement; And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love, With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile, Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove All Loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile For ever to assoile. Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord, And blessed Plentie wait upon your bord; And let your bed with pleasures chast abound, That fruitfull issue may to you afford, Which may your foes confound, And make your joyes redound Upon your Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softlie, till I end my Song." So ended she; and all the rest around 108 And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground Their accents did resound. So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along, Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low, As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong, Yet did by signes his glad affection show, Making his streame run slow. And all the foule which in his flood did dwell The lesser starres. So they, enrangéd well, And their best service lend Against their wedding day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. 126 At length they all to mery London came, There when they came, whereas those bricky There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde, Till they decayd through pride: Next whereunto there standes a stately place, Where oft I gaynèd giftes and goodly grace Of that great Lord, which therein wont to dwell, Whose want too well now feeles my freendles case; But ah! here fits not well Olde woes, but joyes, to tell Against the bridale daye, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end' my Song. Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Peer, Great Englands glory, and the Worlds wide wonder, 144 Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine did thunder, And Hercules two pillors standing neere Did make to quake and feare: Faire branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie! fame, Joy have thou of thy noble victorie, And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name That promiseth the same; That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes, Thy country may be freed from forraine And great Elisaes glorious name may ring Which some brave muse may sing To ages following, Upon the Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. 162 From those high Towers this noble Lord Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre Above the rest were goodly to bee seene That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight, Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heavens bright; They two, forth pacing to the Rivers side, Received those two faire Brides, their Loves delight; Which, at th' appointed tyde, Each one did make his Bryde Against their Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. 1596. 180 Edmund Spenser. EPITHALAMION YE learned sisters, which have oftentimes rymes, |