EDMUND SPENSER
The merry Larke hir mattins sings aloft;
The Thrush replyes; the Mavis descant playes;
The Ouzell shrills; the Ruddock warbles soft;
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
To this daycs merriment.
Ah' my deerc love, why doe ye sleepe thus long?
When meetcr were that ye should now awake,
T 3 awayt the commmg of your joyous make,
And hearken to the birds love-learned song,
The deawy leaves among'
Nor they of joy and pleasance to you sing,
That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring
My love is now awake out of her dreames,
And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmed were
With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams
More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere.
Come now, ye damzeN, daughters of delight,
Helpc quickly her to dight.
But first come ye fayre houres, which were begot
In Joveb bwect paradice of Day and Night;
Which doe the scabons of the yeare allot,
And al, that ever in this world is fayre,
Doe make and still rcpayre.
And ye three handmaids of the Cyprian Queene,
The which doc still adorne her beauties pride,
Helpe to addorne my bcautifullest bride:
And, ab ye her array, still throw betweene
Some graces to be scene;
And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing,
The whiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho ring.
ruddock] redbreast.
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