CA

I

Alme was the day, and through the trem-
bling ayre,
Sweete breathing Zephyrus did softly play
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre:
When I whom sullein care,

Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay
In Princes Court, and expectation vayne
Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away,
Like empty shaddowes, did aflict my brayne,
Walkt forth to ease my payne
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Along the shoare of siluer streaming Themmes,
Whose rutty Bancke, the which his Riuer hemmes,
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.

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Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare
To wet their silken feathers, least they might
Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,
And marre their beauties bright,
That shone as heauens light,
Against their Brydale day, which was not long:
Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my
Song.

Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had
Flowers their fill,

Ran all in haste, to see that siluer brood,
As they came floating on the Christal Flood.
Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed still,
Their wondring eyes to fill,

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Them seem'd they neuer saw a sight so fayre, Of Fowles so louely, that they sure did deeme Them heauenly borne, or to be that same payre Which through the Skie draw Venus siluer Teeme,

For sure they did not seeme

To be begot of any earthly Seede,

But rather Angels or of Angels breede:
Yet were they bred of Somers-heat they say,
Insweetest Season, when each Flower and weede
The earth did fresh aray,

So fresh they seem'd as day,

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Euen as their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.

Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Peer, Great Englands glory and the Worlds wide wonder,

Whose dreadfull name, late through all Spaine did thunder,

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And Hercules two pillors standing neere,
Did make to quake and feare:
Faire branch of Honor, flower of Cheualrie,
That fillest England with thy triumphs fame,
Ioy haue thou of thy noble victorie,
And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name
That promiseth the same:

That through thy prowesse and victorious armes,
Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes :
And great Elisaes glorious name may ring
Through al the world, fil'd with thy wide Alarmes,
Which some braue muse may sing
To ages following,

160 Vpon the Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.

ΙΟ

From those high Towers, this noble Lord issuing,

Like Radiant Hesper when his golden hayre
In th'Ocean billowes he hath Bathed fayre,
Descended to the Riuers open vewing,
With a great traine ensuing.
Aboue the rest were goodly to bee seene
Two gentle Knights of louely face and feature
Beseeming well the bower of anie Queene, 170
With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,
Fit for so goodly stature :

That like the twins of Ioue they seem'd in sight, Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heauens bright.

They two forth pacing to the Riuers side, Receiued those two faire Brides, their Loues delight,

Which at th'appointed tyde,
Each one did make his Bryde,
Against their Brydale day, which is not long:
Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my
Song.
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skie :

And second Babell, tyrant of the West,
Her ayry Towers upraised much more high.
But with the weight of their own surquedry,
They both are fallen, that all the earth did
feare,

And buried now in their own ashes ly,

were.

But in their place doth now a third appeare, Fayre Venice, flower of the last worlds delight, And next to them in beauty draweth neare, But farre exceedes in policie of right.

Yet not so fayre her buildinges to behold As Lewkenors stile that hath her beautie told. EDM. SPENCER.