EDMUND SPENSER
Whose want too well now f eeles my f reendles case ;
But ah ' here fits not well
Oldc woes, but joyes, to tell
Against the Brydale 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 World wide wonder,
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^
That fillcst England with thy triumphs fame,
Joy have thou of thy noble victorie,
And endlessc happinesse of thine owne name
That promiscth the same;
That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,
Thy country may be freed from forraine harmcs;
And great Ehsaes glorious name may ring
Through al the world, fiPd with thy wide Alarmes,
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.
From those high Towers this noble Lord issuing,
Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre
In th' Ocean billowes he hath bathed f ayre,
Descended to the Rivers open vewing,
With a great traine ensuing.
Above the rest were goodly to bee scene
Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,
Beseeming well the bower of anie Queenc,
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