EDMUND SPENSER
And crownc their Paramours
Against the Brydalc day, which ib not long:
Swcetc Themmes' runne softly, till I end my Song.
There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers bide,
A Flocke of Nymphes I chaunccd to espy,
All lovely Daughters of the Flood thereby,
With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,
As ejch had bcne a Bryde;
And each one had a little wicker basket,
Made of the twigs, entrayled curiously,
In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,
And with fine Fingers crept full featcously
The tender stalkes on hyc.
Of every sort, which in that Meadow grew,
They gathered some; the Violet, pallid blew,
The little Dazie, that at evening closes,
The virgin Lillie, and the Primrose trcw,
With store of vermeil Roses,
To dccke their Bndegromes posies
Against the Brydalc day, which was not long:
Sweete Thcmmcs^ runne softly, till I end my Song.
With that 1 saw two Swannes of goodly hewe
Come softly swimming downe along the Lee;
Two fairer Birds I yet did never see;
The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew,
Did never whiter shew;
Nor Jove himself e, when he a Swan would be
For love of Leda, whiter did appcare,
Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,
Yet not so white as these, nor nothing nearej
So purely white they were,
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