Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

Wake now, my love, awake! for it is time:
The rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed,
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.

Ab! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long,

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 joy and pleasance to you sing, That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Harke how the minstrels gin to shrill aloud Their merry musick that resounds from far, The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling croud, That well agree withouten breach or jar. 132 But most of all the damzels doe delite, When they their tymbrels smyte,

And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet, That all the sences they doe ravish quite, The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street,

Crying aloud with strong confused noyce, As if it were one voyce.

'Hymen, Iö Hymen, Hymen,' they do shout, That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill

141

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

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,
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.

209

With trembling steps and humble reverence,
She commeth in before th' Almighties vew:
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
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
The choristers the joyous antheme sing,
That al the woods may answere, and their
eccho ring.

220

Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes, And blesseth her with his two happy hands, How the red roses flush up in her cheekes, And the pure snow with goodly vermill stayne,

230

Like crimsin dyde in grayne:
That even th' angels, which continually
About the sacred altare doe remaine,
Forget their service and about her fly,
Ofte peeping in her face, that seemes more
fayre,

The more they on it stare.

But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,
Are governed with goodly modesty,
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,
That all the woods may answere, and your
eccho ring.

240

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.

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, Poure not by cups, but by the belly full, 251 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, 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 shal 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,
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 ordained was,
To chose the longest day in all the yeare,
And shortest night, when longest fitter

weare:

270

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights forepast;

Enough is it 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 soone 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,
In proud humility!

Like unto Maia, when as Jove her tooke,
In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,
Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was
With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.
Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon,
And leave my love alone,

310

And leave likewise your former lay to sing: The woods no more shal answere, nor your echo ring.

Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected,

That long daies labour doest at last defray, And all my cares, which cruell Love collected,

Hast sumd in one, and cancelled 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:

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,
And begot Majesty.

331

[blocks in formation]

But let stil Silence trew night watches keepe,

That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne, And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe, May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne,

The whiles an hundred little winged loves, Like divers fethered doves,

Shall fly and flutter round about our bed, And in the secret darke, that none reproves, Their prety stealthes shall worke, and snares shal spread 361

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

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
« AnteriorContinuar »