LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. SPENSER. PROTHALAMION. CALME was the day, and through the trembling ayre A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre, Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes; Was paynted all with variable flowers, And all the meades adornd with daintie gemmes Fit to decke maydens bowres And crowne their Paramours Against the Brydale day, which is not long. Sweete Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my Song. There, in a Meadow, by the Riuers side, A Flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy, All louely Daughters of the Flood thereby, And each one had a little wicker basket, In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket, B 5 10 15 20 25 And with fine Fingers cropt full feateously Of euery sort, which in that Meadow grew, To decke their Bridegromes posies Against the Brydale day, which was not long. Sweete Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my Song. With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew, 40 Nor Joue himselfe, when he a Swan would be, Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he, Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare; 45 So purely white they were, That euen the gentle streame, the which them bare, Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre, 50 That shone as heavens light, Against their Brydale day, which was not long. Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill, 55 Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre Which through the Skie draw Venus silver Teere; To be begot of any earthly Seede, 65 But rather Angels, or of Angels breede; Yet were they bred of Somers-heat, they say, 30 In sweetest Season, when each Flower and weede So fresh they seem'd as day, 70 Euen as their Brydale day, which was not long. Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. Then forth they all out of their baskets drew That like old Peneus Waters they did seeme, 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, Prepar'd against that Day, Against their Brydale day, which was not long : (Sweete Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my Song.) "Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament, "And heauens glorie, whom this happie hower "Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower, 66 'Joy may you haue, and gentle hearts content "Of your loues couplement ; 66 And let faire Venus, that is Queene of loue, "Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord, "And let your bed with pleasures chast abound, That fruitfull issue may to you afford, "Which may your foes confound, 95 100 105 "And make your joyes redound "Vpon your Brydale day, which is not long." Sweet Themmes ! runne softlie, till I end my Song. So ended she and all the rest around To her redoubled that her vndersong, Which said their brydale daye should not be long: So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along, And all the foule which in his flood did dwell 110 115 120 And their best seruice lend Against their wedding day, which was not long. 125 Sweete Themmes! run softly, till I end my Song. At length they all to mery London came, To mery London, my most kyndly Nurse, That to me gaue this Lifes first natiue sourse, There when they came, whereas those bricky towres Next whereunto there standes a stately place, 130 135 Of that great Lord, which therein wont to dwell, Whose want too well now feeles my freendles case; 140 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, 145 Great Englands glory, and the Worlds wide wonder, Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine did thunder, Did make to quake and feare. Faire branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie! 150 And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name That promiseth the same, That through thy prowesse and victorious armes 155 And great Elisaes glorious name may ring Through al the world, fil'd with thy wide Alarmes, To ages following 160 Vpon the Brydale day, which is not long. Sweete Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my Song. Fit for so goodly stature, That like the twins of Joue they seem'd in sight, Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heauens bright. 175 Receiued those two faire Brides, their Loues delight; Each one did make his Bryde Against their Brydale day, which is not long. Sweete Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my Song. *180 |