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With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams
More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere.
Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight,
Helpe quickly her to dight:
But first come, ye fayre Houres, which were begot,
In Ioves sweet paradice, of Day and Night;
Which doe the seasons of the year allot,
And all, that ever in this world is fayre,
Doe make and still repayre;
And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian queene,
The which doe still adorn her beauties pride,
Help to adorne my beautifullest bride :
And, as ye her array, still throw betweene
Some graces to be seene;
And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing, [ring.
The whiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho

Loe! where she comes along with portly pace,
Lyke Phoebe, from her chamber of the east,
Arysing forth to run her mighty race,
Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best.
So well it her beseems, that ye would weene
Some angell she had beene.
Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,
Sprinkled with perle, and perling flowers atweene,
Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre ;
And, being crowned with a girland greene,
Seem lyke some mayden queene.
Her modest eyes, abashed to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixed are:
Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,
But blush to hear her prayses sung so loud,
So far from being proud.

Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your ecchoring.

Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye see
So fayre a creature in your town before ?
So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,
Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store:
Her goodly eyes lyke saphyres shining bright,
Her forehead yvory white,
Her cheekes lyke apples which the Sun hath rudded,
Her lips lyke cherries charming men to byte,
Her breast like to a bowl of creame uncrudded,
Her paps lyke lyllies budded,
Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towte;
And all her body like a pallace fayre,
Ascending up with many a stately stayre,
To Honors seat and Chastities sweet bowre.
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 ecchoring?

But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,
The inward beauty of her lively spright,
Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree,
Much more would ye wonder at that sight.
There dwells 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,
The which the base affections doe obay,
And yeeld theyr services unto her will ;

Ne thought of things uncomely ever may

Thereto approach to tempt her mind to ill.

Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures,

And unrevealed pleasures,

Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing,

That all the woods should answer, and your eccho ring.

With trembling steps, and humble reverence,
She commethin, 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
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 ioyous antheme sing,
That all the woods may answer, and their ecchoring.

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.
But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,
Are governed with goodly modesty,
That suffers not one look 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 answer, and your eccho ring.

Now all is done: bring home the bride againe;
Bring home the triumph of our victory;
Bring home with you the glory of her gaine,
With ioyance bring her and with iollity.
Never had man more ioyfull day than 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,
Poure out to all that wull,
And sprinkle all the posts and wals with wine,
That they may sweat and drunken be withall.
Crowne ye god Bacchus with a coronall,
And Hymen also crowne with wreaths of vine;
And let the Graces daunce unto the rest,
For they can do it best:
The whyles the maydens do theyr carroll sing,
To which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho
Ting.

HYMNE.
on HEAVENLY LOWE.

Love, lift me up upon thy golden wings
From this base world unto thy Heavens hight,
Where I may see those admirable things
Which there thou workest by thy soveraine might,
Farre above feeble reach of earthly sight,
That I thereof an heavenly hymne may sing
Unto the God of Love, high Heavens king.

Many lewd layes (ah! woe is me the more!)
In praise of that mad fit which fooles call love,
I have in th’ heat of youth made heretofore,
That in light wits did loose affection move;
But all those follies now I do reprove,
And turned have the tenor of my string,
The heavenly prayses of true love to sing.

And ye that wont with greedy vaine desire
To reade my fault, and, wondring at my flame,
To warme your selves at my wide sparckling fire,
Sith now that heat is quenched, quench my blame,
And in her ashes shrowd my dying shame;
for who my passed follies now pursewes,
Beginnes his owne, and my old fault renewes.

Before this won Los GREAT FAME, in which althings
Are now containd, found any being-place,
Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas wings
About that mightie bound which doth embrace
The rolling spheres, and parts their houres by space,

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