First
33
Yet were they bred of summer’s heat, they say,
In sweetest season, when each flower and weed
The earth did fresh array;
So fresh they seem’d as day,
Even as their bridal day, which was not long :
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
In sweetest season, when each flower and weed
The earth did fresh array;
So fresh they seem’d as day,
Even as their bridal day, which was not long :
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
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 yield,
All which upon those goodly birds they threw
And all the waves did strew,
That like old Peneus’ waters they did seem
When down along by pleasant Tempe’s shore
Scatter’d with flowere, through Thessaly they stream.
That they appear, through lilies’ plenteous store.
Like a bride’s chamber-floor.
Two of those nymphs meanwhile two garlands bound
Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found.
The which presenting all in trim array.
Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crown’d;
Whilst one did sing this lay
Prepared against that day,
Against their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,
All which upon those goodly birds they threw
And all the waves did strew,
That like old Peneus’ waters they did seem
When down along by pleasant Tempe’s shore
Scatter’d with flowere, through Thessaly they stream.
That they appear, through lilies’ plenteous store.
Like a bride’s chamber-floor.
Two of those nymphs meanwhile two garlands bound
Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found.
The which presenting all in trim array.
Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crown’d;
Whilst one did sing this lay
Prepared against that day,
Against their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
‘Ye gentle birds! the world’s fair ornament.
And Heaven’s glory, whom this happy hour
Doth lead unto your lovers’ blissful bower,
Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content
Of your love’s complement;
And let fair Venus, that is queen of love,
With her heart-quelling son upon you smile,
Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove
All love’s dislike, and friendship’s faulty guile
For ever to assoil.
Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord.
And blessed plenty wait upon your board;
And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound.
That fruitful issue may to you afford
Which may your foes confound,
And make your joys redound
And Heaven’s glory, whom this happy hour
Doth lead unto your lovers’ blissful bower,
Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content
Of your love’s complement;
And let fair Venus, that is queen of love,
With her heart-quelling son upon you smile,
Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove
All love’s dislike, and friendship’s faulty guile
For ever to assoil.
Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord.
And blessed plenty wait upon your board;
And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound.
That fruitful issue may to you afford
Which may your foes confound,
And make your joys redound
