From those high towers this noble lord issuing, 165 Above the rest were goodly to bee seene Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature, 170 Fit for so goodly stature, That like the Twins of love they seem'd in sight, 175 Receiv'd those two faire Brides, their loves delight; Which, at th' appointed tyde, Each one did make his Bryde Against their brydale day, which is not long: 179 Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. EPITHALAMION. YE learned Sisters, which have oftentimes Beene to me ayding, others to adorne, And when ye list your own mishaps to mourne, And teach the woods and waters to lament 5 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: So Orpheus did for his owne bride! 15 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 20 Go to the bowre of my beloved Love, My truest turtle dove ; Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake, And long since ready forth his maske to move, With his bright tead that flames with many a flake, 25 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 For my fayre Love, of Lillyes and of Roses, 40 45 And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread, 50 And diapred lyke the discolored mead. Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt, The whiles do ye this Song unto her sing, The woods shall to you answer, and your eccho ring. Ye Nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull heed Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light, 56 60 That when you come whereas my Love doth lie, 65 And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe the dore, To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing, 71 Wake now, my Love, awake; for it is time; 75 All ready to her silver coche to clyme; Hark! how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies, |