EPITHALAMION.
Ye learned sisters, which have oftentimes
Beene to me ayding, others to adorne,
Whom ye thought worthy for your gracefull rymes,
That even the greatest did not greatly scorne
To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes, 5
But joyed in theyr praise;
And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,
Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,
Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,
And teach the woods and waters to lament 10
Your doleful dreriment:
Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside;
And, having all your heads with girlands crownd,
Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound;
Ne let the same of any be envide: 15
So Orpheus did for his owne bride!
So I unto my selfe alone will sing;
The woods shall to me answer, and my eccho ring.
Beene to me ayding, others to adorne,
Whom ye thought worthy for your gracefull rymes,
That even the greatest did not greatly scorne
To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes, 5
But joyed in theyr praise;
And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,
Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,
Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,
And teach the woods and waters to lament 10
Your doleful dreriment:
Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside;
And, having all your heads with girlands crownd,
Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound;
Ne let the same of any be envide: 15
So Orpheus did for his owne bride!
So I unto my selfe alone will sing;
The woods shall to me answer, and my eccho ring.
Early, before the worlds light-giving lampe
His golden beame upon the hils doth spred, 20
Having disperst the nights unchearfull dampe,
Doe ye awake; and, with fresh lustyhed,
Go to the bowre of my beloved love,
My truest turtle dove;
Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake, 25
And long since ready forth his maske to move,
With his bright tead that flames with many a flake,
And many a bachelor to waite on him,
In theyr fresh garments trim.
Bid her awake therefore, and soone her dight, 30
For loe! the wished day is come at last,
That shall, for all the paynes and sorrowes past,
Pay to her usury of long delight:
And, whylest she doth her dight,
Doe ye to her of ioy and solace sing, 35
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.
His golden beame upon the hils doth spred, 20
Having disperst the nights unchearfull dampe,
Doe ye awake; and, with fresh lustyhed,
Go to the bowre of my beloved love,
My truest turtle dove;
Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake, 25
And long since ready forth his maske to move,
With his bright tead that flames with many a flake,
And many a bachelor to waite on him,
In theyr fresh garments trim.
Bid her awake therefore, and soone her dight, 30
For loe! the wished day is come at last,
That shall, for all the paynes and sorrowes past,
Pay to her usury of long delight:
And, whylest she doth her dight,
Doe ye to her of ioy and solace sing, 35
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.
Bring with you all the nymphes that you can heare
Both of the rivers and the forrests greene,
And of the sea that neighbours to her neare:
All with gay girlands goodly wel beseene. 40
And let them also with them bring in hand
Another gay girland,
For my fayre love, of lillyes and of roses,
Bound truelove wize with a blew silke riband.
And let them make great store of bridale poses, 45
And let them eke bring store of other flowers,
To deck the bridale bowers.
And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,
For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong,
Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along, 50
And diapred lyke the discolored mead.
Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,
For she will waken strayt;
The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,
The woods shall to you answer, and your echo ring.
Both of the rivers and the forrests greene,
And of the sea that neighbours to her neare:
All with gay girlands goodly wel beseene. 40
And let them also with them bring in hand
Another gay girland,
For my fayre love, of lillyes and of roses,
Bound truelove wize with a blew silke riband.
And let them make great store of bridale poses, 45
And let them eke bring store of other flowers,
To deck the bridale bowers.
And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,
For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong,
Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along, 50
And diapred lyke the discolored mead.
Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,
For she will waken strayt;
The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,
The woods shall to you answer, and your echo ring.
Ye nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull heed 56
The silver scaly trouts do tend full well,
And greedy pikes which use therein to feed;
(Those trouts and pikes all others doe excell;)
And ye likewise, which keepe the rushy lake, 60
Where none doo fishes take;
Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,
And in his waters, which your mirror make,
Behold your faces as the christall bright,
That when you come whereas my love doth lie, 65
No blemish she may spie.
And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe the dore
That on the hoary mountayne use to towre;
And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure,
With your steele darts doo chace from coming neer:
Be also present heere, 71
To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.
The silver scaly trouts do tend full well,
And greedy pikes which use therein to feed;
(Those trouts and pikes all others doe excell;)
And ye likewise, which keepe the rushy lake, 60
Where none doo fishes take;
Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,
And in his waters, which your mirror make,
Behold your faces as the christall bright,
That when you come whereas my love doth lie, 65
No blemish she may spie.
And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe the dore
That on the hoary mountayne use to towre;
And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure,
With your steele darts doo chace from coming neer:
Be also present heere, 71
To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.
Wake now, my love, awake; for it is time;
The rosy morne long since left Tithons bed, 75
All ready to her silver coche to clyme;
And Phœbus gins to shew his glorious hed.
Hark! how the cheerfull birds do chaunt theyr laies
And carroll of Loves praise.
The merry larke hir mattins sings aloft; 80
The thrush replyes; the mavis descant playes:
The ouzell shrills; the ruddock warbles soft;
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
To this dayes merriment.
Ah! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long, 85
When meeter were that ye should now awake,
T'awayt the comming of your joyous make,
And hearken to the birds love-learned song,
The deawy leaves among!
For they of ioy and pleasance to you sing, 90
That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.
The rosy morne long since left Tithons bed, 75
All ready to her silver coche to clyme;
And Phœbus gins to shew his glorious hed.
Hark! how the cheerfull birds do chaunt theyr laies
And carroll of Loves praise.
The merry larke hir mattins sings aloft; 80
The thrush replyes; the mavis descant playes:
The ouzell shrills; the ruddock warbles soft;
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
To this dayes merriment.
Ah! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long, 85
When meeter were that ye should now awake,
T'awayt the comming of your joyous make,
And hearken to the birds love-learned song,
The deawy leaves among!
For they of ioy and pleasance to you sing, 90
That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.
My love is now awake out of her dreame,
And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmed were
With darksome cloudes, now shew theyr goodly beams
More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere. 95
Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight,
Helpe quickly her to dight:
But first come ye fayre houres, which were begot,
In Ioves sweet paradice of day and night;
Which doe the seasons of the year allot, 100
And all, that ever in this world is fayre,
Do make and still repayre:
And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmed were
With darksome cloudes, now shew theyr goodly beams
More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere. 95
Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight,
Helpe quickly her to dight:
But first come ye fayre houres, which were begot,
In Ioves sweet paradice of day and night;
Which doe the seasons of the year allot, 100
And all, that ever in this world is fayre,
Do make and still repayre:
