| YE learnèd sisters, which have oftentimes | |
| Beene to me ayding, others to adorne, | |
| Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes, | |
| That even the greatest did not greatly scorne | |
| To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes, | 5 |
| But joyèd 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 dolefull 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 unchearefull dampe, | |
| Doe ye awake; and, with fresh lusty-hed, | |
| Go to the bowre of my belovèd 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 lo! the wishèd 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 joy 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: | |
| Al 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 eeke 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 Eccho ring. | 55 |
| |
| Ye Nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull heed | |
| The silver scaly trouts doe tend full well, | |
| And greedy pikes which use therein to feed; | |
| (Those trouts and pikes all others doo 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 deere, | |
| That on the hoary mountayne used to towre; | |
| And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure, | |
| With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer; | 70 |
| Be also present heere, | |
| 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 Tithones bed, | 75 |
| All ready to her silver coche to clyme; | |
| And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious hed. | |
| Hark! how the cheerefull 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-learnèd song, | |
| The deawy leaves among! | |
| Nor they of joy and pleasance to you sing, | 90 |
| 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 dimmèd were | |
| With darksome cloud, 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 Joves sweet paradice of Day and Night; | |
| Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot, | 100 |
| And al, that ever in this world is fayre, | |
| Doe make and still repayre: | |
| And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene, | |
| The which doe still adorne her beauties pride, | |
| Helpe to addorne my beautifullest bride: | 105 |
| And, as ye her array, still throw betweene | |
| Some graces to be seene; | |
| And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing, | |
| The whiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho ring. | |
| |
| Now is my love all ready forth to come: | 110 |
| Let all the virgins therefore well awayt: | |
| And ye fresh boyes, that tend upon her groome, | |
| Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt. | |
| Set all your things in seemely good aray, | |
| Fit for so joyfull day: | 115 |
| The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see. | |
| Faire Sun! shew forth thy favourable ray, | |
| And let thy lifull heat not fervent be, | |
| For feare of burning her sunshyny face, | |
| Her beauty to disgrace. | 120 |
| O fayrest Phoebus! father of the Muse! | |
| If ever I did honour thee aright, | |
| Or sing the thing that mote thy mind delight, | |
| Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse; | |
| But let this day, let this one day, be myne; | 125 |
| Let all the rest be thine. | |
| Then I thy soverayne prayses loud wil sing, | |
| That all the woods shal answer, and theyr eccho ring. | |
| |
| Harke! how the Minstrils gin to shrill aloud | |
| Their merry Musick that resounds from far, | 130 |
| The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud, | |
| That well agree withouten breach or jar. | |
| But, most of all, the Damzels doe delite | |
| When they their tymbrels smyte, | |
| And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet, | 135 |
| That all the sences they doe ravish quite; | |
| The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street, | |
| Crying aloud with strong confusèd noyce, | |
| As if it were one voyce, | |
| Hymen, iö Hymen, Hymen, they do shout; | 140 |
| That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill | |
| Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill; | |
| To which the people standing all about, | |
| As in approvance, doe thereto applaud, | |
| And loud advaunce her laud; | 145 |
| And evermore they Hymen, Hymen sing, | |
| That al the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring. | |
| |
| Loe! where she comes along with portly pace, | |
| Lyke Phoebe, from her chamber of the East, | |
| Arysing forth to run her mighty race, | 150 |
| Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best. | |
| So well it her beseemes, that ye would weene | |
| Some angell she had beene. | |
| Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre, | |
| Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres atweene, | 155 |
| Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre; | |
| And, being crownèd with a girland greene, | |
| Seeme lyke some mayden Queene. | |
| Her modest eyes, abashèd to behold | |
| So many gazers as on her do stare, | 160 |
| Upon the lowly ground affixèd are; | |
| Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, | |
| But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud, | |
| So farre from being proud. | |
| Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing, | 165 |
| That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. | |
| |
| Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye see | |
| So fayre a creature in your towne before; | |
| So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, | |
| Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store? | 170 |
| Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright, | |
| Her forehead yvory white, | |
| Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded, | |
| Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte, | |
| Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded, | 175 |
| Her paps lyke lyllies budded, | |
| Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre; | |
| And all her body like a pallace fayre, | |
| Ascending up, with many a stately stayre, | |
| To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre. | 180 |
| Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze, | |
| Upon her so to gaze, | |
| Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing, | |
| To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring? | |
| |
| But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, | 185 |
| The inward beauty of her lively spright, | |
| Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree, | |
| Much more then would ye wonder at that sight, | |
| And stand astonisht lyke to those which red | |
| Medusaes mazeful hed. | 190 |
| There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity, | |
| Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood, | |
| Regard of honour, and mild modesty; | |
| There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne, | |
| And giveth lawes alone, | 195 |
| The which the base affections doe obay, | |
| And yeeld theyr services unto her will; | |
| Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may | |
| Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill. | |
| Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures, | 200 |
| And unrevealèd pleasures, | |
| Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing, | |
| That al the woods should answer, and your echo ring. | |
| |
| Open the temple gates unto my love, | |
| Open them wide that she may enter in, | 205 |
| And all the postes adorne as doth behove, | |
| And all the pillours deck with girlands trim, | |
| For to receyve this Saynt with honour dew, | |
| That commeth in to you. | |
| With trembling steps, and humble reverence, | 210 |
| She commeth in, before th' Almighties view; | |
| Of her ye virgins learne obedience, | |
| When so ye come into those holy places, | |
| To humble your proud faces: | |
| Bring her up to th' high altar, that she may | 215 |
| The sacred ceremonies there partake, | |
| The which do endlesse matrimony make; | |
| And let the roring Organs loudly play | |
| The praises of the Lord in lively notes; | |
| The whiles, with hollow throates, | 220 |
| The Choristers the joyous Antheme sing, | |
| That al the woods may answere, and their eccho ring. | |
| |
| Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, | |
| Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes, | |
| And blesseth her with his two happy hands, | 225 |
| How the red roses flush up in her cheekes, | |
| And the pure snow, with goodly vermill stayne | |
| Like crimsin dyde in grayne: | |
| That even th' Angels, which continually | |
| About the sacred Altare doe remaine, | 230 |
| Forget their service and about her fly, | |
| Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fayre, | |
| The more they on it stare. | |
| But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, | |
| Are governèd with goodly modesty, | 235 |
| That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry, | |
| Which may let in a little thought unsownd. | |
| Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, | |
| The pledge of all our band! | |
| Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing, | 240 |
| That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring. | |
| |
| Now al is done: bring home the bride againe; | |
| Bring home the triumph of our victory: | |
| Bring home with you the glory of her gaine; | |
| With joyance bring her and with jollity. | 245 |
| Never had man more joyfull day then this, | |
| Whom heaven would heape with blis, | |
| Make feast therefore now all this live-long day; | |
| This day for ever to me holy is. | |
| Poure out the wine without restraint or stay, | 250 |
| Poure not by cups, but by the belly full, | |
| Poure out to all that wull, | |
| And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine, | |
| That they may sweat, and drunken be withall. | |
| Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall, | 255 |
| And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine; | |
| And let the Graces daunce unto the rest, | |
| For they can doo it best: | |
| The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing, | |
| To which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho ring. | 260 |
| |
| Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne, | |
| And leave your wonted labors for this day: | |
| This day is holy; doe ye write it downe, | |
| That ye for ever it remember may. | |
| This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight, | 265 |
| With Barnaby the bright, | |
| From whence declining daily by degrees, | |
| He somewhat loseth of his heat and light, | |
| When once the Crab behind his back he sees. | |
| But for this time it ill ordainèd was, | 270 |
| To chose the longest day in all the yeare, | |
| And shortest night, when longest fitter weare: | |
| Yet never day so long, but late would passe. | |
| Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away, | |
| And bonefiers make all day; | 275 |
| And daunce about them, and about them sing, | |
| That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. | |
| |
| Ah! when will this long weary day have end, | |
| And lende me leave to come unto my love? | |
| How slowly do the houres theyr numbers spend? | 280 |
| How slowly does sad Time his feathers move? | |
| Hast thee, O fayrest Planet, to thy home, | |
| Within the Westerne fome: | |
| Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of rest. | |
| Long though it be, at last I see it gloome, | 285 |
| And the bright evening-star with golden creast | |
| Appeare out of the East. | |
| Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of love! | |
| That all the host of heaven in rankes doost lead, | |
| And guydest lovers through the nights sad dread, | 290 |
| How chearefully thou lookest from above, | |
| And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light, | |
| As joying in the sight | |
| Of these glad many, which for joy doe sing, | |
| That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring! | 295 |
| |
| Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights fore-past; | |
| Enough it is that all the day was youres: | |
| Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast, | |
| Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures. | |
| The night is come, now soon her disaray, | 300 |
| And in her bed her lay; | |
| Lay her in lillies and in violets, | |
| And silken courteins over her display, | |
| And odourd sheetes, and Arras coverlets. | |
| Behold how goodly my faire love does ly, | 305 |
| In proud humility! | |
| Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took | |
| In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras, | |
| Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was, | |
| With bathing in the Acidalian brooke. | 310 |
| Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon, | |
| And leave my love alone, | |
| And leave likewise your former lay to sing: | |
| The woods no more shall answere, nor your echo ring. | |
| |
| Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected, | 315 |
| That long daies labour doest at last defray, | |
| And all my cares, which cruell Love collected, | |
| Hast sumd in one, and cancellèd for aye: | |
| Spread thy broad wing over my love and me, | |
| That no man may us see; | 320 |
| And in thy sable mantle us enwrap, | |
| From feare of perrill and foule horror free. | |
| Let no false treason seeke us to entrap, | |
| Nor any dread disquiet once annoy | |
| The safety of our joy; | 325 |
| But let the night be calme, and quietsome, | |
| Without tempestuous storms or sad afray: | |
| Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena lay, | |
| When he begot the great Tirynthian groome: | |
| Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie | 330 |
| And begot Majesty. | |
| And let the mayds and yong men cease to sing; | |
| Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr eccho ring. | |
| |
| Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares, | |
| Be heard all night within, nor yet without: | 335 |
| Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares, | |
| Breake gentle sleepe with misconceivèd dout. | |
| Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadfull sights, | |
| Make sudden sad affrights; | |
| Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes, | 340 |
| Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights, | |
| Ne let mischivous witches with theyr charmes, | |
| Ne let hob Goblins, names whose sence we see not, | |
| Fray us with things that be not: | |
| Let not the shriech Oule nor the Storke be heard, | 345 |
| Nor the night Raven, that still deadly yels; | |
| Nor damnèd ghosts, cald up with mighty spels, | |
| Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard: | |
| Ne let th' unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking | |
| Make us to wish theyr choking. | 350 |
| Let none of these theyr drery accents sing; | |
| Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring. | |
| |
| But let stil Silence trew night-watches keepe, | |
| That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne, | |
| And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe, | 355 |
| May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne; | |
| The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves, | |
| Like divers-fethered doves, | |
| Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, | |
| And in the secret darke, that none reproves, | 360 |
| Their prety stealthes shal worke, and snares shal spread | |
| To filch away sweet snatches of delight, | |
| Conceald through covert night. | |
| Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will! | |
| For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes, | 365 |
| Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes, | |
| Then what ye do, albe it good or ill. | |
| All night therefore attend your merry play, | |
| For it will soone be day: | |
| Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing; | 370 |
| Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring. | |
| |
| Who is the same, which at my window peepes? | |
| Or whose is that faire face that shines so bright? | |
| Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes, | |
| But walkes about high heaven al the night? | 375 |
| O! fayrest goddesse, do thou not envy | |
| My love with me to spy: | |
| For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought, | |
| And for a fleece of wooll, which privily | |
| The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought, | 380 |
| His pleasures with thee wrought. | |
| Therefore to us be favorable now; | |
| And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge, | |
| And generation goodly dost enlarge, | |
| Encline thy will t'effect our wishfull vow, | 385 |
| And the chast wombe informe with timely seed | |
| That may our comfort breed: | |
| Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing; | |
| Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho ring. | |
| |
| And thou, great Juno! which with awful might | 390 |
| The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize; | |
| And the religion of the faith first plight | |
| With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize; | |
| And eeke for comfort often callèd art | |
| Of women in their smart; | 395 |
| Eternally bind thou this lovely band, | |
| And all thy blessings unto us impart. | |
| And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand | |
| The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine, | |
| Without blemish or staine; | 400 |
| And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight | |
| With secret ayde doest succour and supply, | |
| Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny; | |
| Send us the timely fruit of this same night. | |
| And thou, fayre Hebe! and thou, Hymen free! | 405 |
| Grant that it may so be. | |
| Til which we cease your further prayse to sing; | |
| Ne any woods shall answer, nor your Eccho ring. | |
| |
| And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods, | |
| In which a thousand torches flaming bright | 410 |
| Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods | |
| In dreadful darknesse lend desirèd light | |
| And all ye powers which in the same remayne, | |
| More then we men can fayne! | |
| Poure out your blessing on us plentiously, | 415 |
| And happy influence upon us raine, | |
| That we may raise a large posterity, | |
| Which from the earth, which they may long possesse | |
| With lasting happinesse, | |
| Up to your haughty pallaces may mount; | 420 |
| And, for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit, | |
| May heavenly tabernacles there inherit, | |
| Of blessèd Saints for to increase the count. | |
| So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this, | |
| And cease till then our tymely joyes to sing: | 425 |
| The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring! | |
| |
| Song! made in lieu of many ornaments, | |
| With which my love should duly have been dect, | |
| Which cutting off through hasty accidents, | |
| Ye would not stay your dew time to expect, | 430 |
| But promist both to recompens; | |
| Be unto her a goodly ornament, | |
| And for short time an endlesse moniment. | |
