Never had man more joyful day than this, Make feast therefore now all this live-long day; This day for ever to me holy is. Pour out the wine without restraint or stay, Pour out to all that will, And sprinkle all the posts and walls with wine, The whiles the maidens do their carol sing, To which the woods shall answer, and their echo ring. Ring ye the bells, ye young men of the town, This day is holy; do ye write it down, This day the sun is in his chiefest height, With Barnaby the bright, From whence declining daily by degrees, He somewhat loseth of his heat and light, And dance about them, and about them sing, Ah! when will this long weary day have end, Epithalamion Thy tired steeds long since have need of rest. Fair child of beauty! glorious lamp of love! And seems to laugh atween thy twinkling light, Of these glad many, which for joy do sing, 1157 That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring! Now, cease, ye damsels, your delights fore-past; Lay her in lilies and in violets, And silken curtains over her display, Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took And leave my love alone, And leave likewise your former lay to sing: The woods no more shall answer, nor your echo ring. Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected, That long day's labor dost at last defray, And all my cares, which cruel Love collected, Spread thy broad wing over my love and me, And in thy sable mantle us enwrap, From fear of peril and foul horror free. Let no false treason seek us to entrap, But let the night be calm, and quietsome, And let the maids and young men cease to sing; Let no lamenting cries, nor doleful tears, Nor let house-fires, nor lightning's helpless harms, Nor let mischievous witches with their charms, Let not the screech-owl nor the stork be heard, Nor let the unpleasant choir of frogs still croaking Let none of these their dreary accents sing; Nor let the woods them answer, nor their echo ring. But let still Silence true night-watches keep, That sacred Peace may in assurance reign, And timely Sleep, when it is time to sleep, May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant plain; The whiles an hundred little winged loves, Like divers-feathered doves, Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, And in the secret dark, that none reproves, Their pretty stealths shall work, and snares shall spread Epithalamion To filch away sweet snatches of delight, Ye sons of Venus, play your sports at will! All night therefore attend your merry play, For it will soon be day: Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing; 1159 Nor will the woods now answer, nor your echo ring. Who is the same, which at my window peeps? Or whose is that fair face that shines so bright? Is it not Cynthia, she that never sleeps, But walks about high heaven all the night? O! fairest goddess, do thou not envy My love with me to spy: For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought, And for a fleece of wool, which privily The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought, Therefore to us be favorable now; And since of women's labors thou hast charge, Incline thy will to effect our wishful vow, And the chaste womb inform with timely seed, Till which we cease our hopeful hap to sing; And thou, great Juno! which with awful might And the religion of the faith first plight Of women in their smart; Eternally bind thou this lovely band, And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand Without blemish or stain; And the sweet pleasures of their love's delight Till which we cease your further praise to sing; And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods, Pour out your blessing on us plenteously, And happy influence upon us rain, That we may raise a large posterity, Which from the earth, which they may long possess Up to your haughty palaces may mount; Of blessed Saints for to increase the count. Song! made in lieu of many ornaments, With which my love should duly have been decked, Ye would not stay your due time to expect, Be unto her a goodly ornament, And for short time an endless monument. Edmund Spenser [1552?-1599] BRIDAL SONG From "The Two Noble Kinsmen" ROSES, their sharp spines being gone, Not royal in their smells alone, |