Edmund Spencer: Epithalamion

Analysis

Epithalamion is an ode written by Edmund Spenser as a gift to his bride, Elizabeth Boyle, on their wedding day. The poem moves through the couples' wedding day, from the groom's impatient hours before dawn to the late hours of night after the husband and wife have consummated their marriage. Spenser is very methodical in his depiction of time as it passes, both in the accurate chronological sense and in the subjective sense of time as felt by those waiting in anticipation or fear.

As with most classically-inspired works, this ode begins with an invocation to the Muses to help the groom; however, in this case they are to help him awaken his bride, not create his poetic work. Then follows a growing procession of figures who attempt to bestir the bride from her bed. Once the sun has risen, the bride finally awakens and begins her procession to the bridal bower. She comes to the "temple" (the sanctuary of the church wherein she is to be formally married to the groom) and is wed, then a celebration ensues. Almost immediately, the groom wants everyone to leave and the day to shorten so that he may enjoy the bliss of his wedding night. Once the night arrives, however, the groom turns his thoughts toward the product of their union, praying to various gods that his new wife's womb might be fertile and give him multiple children.

Stanza 1

The groom calls upon the muses to inspire him to properly sing the praises of his beloved bride. He claims he will sing to himself, "as Orpheus did for his own bride." As with most of the following stanzas, this stanza ends with the refrain "The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring."In the tradition of classical authors, the poet calls upon the muses to inspire him. Unlike many poets, who called upon a single muse, Spenser here calls upon all the muses, suggesting his subject requires the full range of mythic inspiration. The reference to Orpheus is an allusion to that hero's luring of his bride's spirit from the realm of the dead using his beautiful music; the groom, too, hopes to awaken his bride from her slumber, leading her into the light of their wedding day.

Stanza 2

Before the break of day, the groom urges the muses to head to his beloved's bower, there to awaken her. Hymen, god of marriage, is already awake, and so too should the bride arise. The groom urges the muses to remind his bride that this is her wedding day, an occasion that will return her great delight for all the "paynes and sorrowes past."Another classical figure, Hymen, is invoked here, and not for the last time. If the god of marriage is ready, and the groom is ready, then he expects his bride to make herself ready as well. The focus is on the sanctity of the wedding day--this occasion itself should urge the bride to come celebrate it as early as possible. Here it is the marriage ceremony, not the bride (or the groom) which determines what is urgent.

Stanza 3

The groom instructs the muses to summon all the nymphs they can to accompany them to the bridal chamber. On their way, they are to gather all the fragrant flowers they can and decorate the path leading from the "bridal bower," where the marriage ceremony is to take place, to the door of the bride's chambers. If they do so, she will tread nothing but flowers on her procession from her rooms to the site of the wedding. As they adorn her doorway with flowers, their song will awaken the bride. This celebration of Christian matrimony here becomes firmly entrenched in the classical mythology of the Greeks with the summoning of the nymphs. No more pagan image can be found than these nature-spirits strewing the ground with various flowers to make a path of beauty from the bride's bedchamber to the bridal bower. Although Spenser will later develop the Protestant marriage ideals, he has chosen to greet the wedding day morning with the spirits of ancient paganism instead.

Stanza 4

Addressing the various nymphs of other natural locales, the groom asks that they tend to their specialties to make the wedding day perfect. The nymphs who tend the ponds and lakes should make sure the water is clear and unmolested by lively fish, that they may see their own reflections in it and so best prepare themselves to be seen by the bride. The nymphs of the mountains and woods, who keep deer safe from ravening wolves, should exercise their skills in keeping these selfsame wolves away from the bride this wedding day. Both groups are to be present to help decorate the wedding site with their beauty. Here Spenser further develops the nymph-summoning of Stanza 3. That he focuses on the two groups' abilities to prevent disturbances hints that he foresaw a chance of some misfortune attending the wedding. Whether this is conventional "wedding day jitters" or a more politically-motivated concern over the problem of Irish uprisings is uncertain, but the wolves mentioned would come from the forests--the same place Irish resistance groups use to hide their movements and strike at the occupying English with impunity.

Stanza 5

The groom now addresses his bride directly (even if she is not present) to urge her to awaken. Sunrise is long since gone and Phoebus, the sun-god, is showing "his glorious hed." The birds are already singing, and the groom insists their song is a call to joy directed at the bride.The mythical figures of Rosy Dawn, Tithones, and Phoebus are here invoked to continue the classical motif of the ode. Thus far, it is indistinguishable in content from a pagan wedding-song. That the groom must address his bride directly demonstrates both his impatience and the ineffectiveness of relying on the muses and nymphs to summon forth the bride.

Stanza 6

The bride has finally awakened, and her eyes likened to the sun wit their "goodly beams/More bright then Hesperus." The groom urges the "daughters of delight" to attend to the bride, but summons too the Hours of Day and Night, the Seasons, and the "three handmayds" of Venus to attend as well. He urges the latter to do for his bride what they do for Venus, sing to her as they help her dress for her wedding. There is a second sunrise here as the "darksome cloud" is removed from the bride's visage and her eyes are allowed to shine in all their glory. The "daughters of delight" are the nymphs, still urged to attend on the bride, but here Spenser introduces the personifications of time in the hours that make up Day, Night, and the seasons. He will return to this time motif later, but it is important to note that here he sees time itself participating as much in the marriage ceremony as do the nymphs and handmaids of Venus.

Stanza 7

The bride is ready with her attendant virgins, so now it is time for the groomsmen and the groom himself to prepare. The groom implores the sun to shine brightly, but not hotly lest it burn his bride's fair skin. He then prays to Phoebus, who is both sun-god and originator of the arts, to give this one day of the year to him while keeping the rest for himself. He offers to exchange his own poetry as an offering for this great favor.The theme of light as both a sign of joy and an image of creative prowess begins to be developed here, as the groom addresses Phoebus. Spenser refers again to his own poetry as a worthy offering to the god of poetry and the arts, which he believes has earned him the favor of having this one day belong to himself rather than to the sun-god.

Stanza 8

The mortal wedding guests and entertainment move into action. The minstrels play their music and sing, while women play their timbrels and dance. Young boys run throughout the streets crying the wedding song "Hymen io Hymen, Hymen" for all to hear. Those hearing the cries applaud the boys and join in with the song. Spenser shifts to the real-world participants in the wedding ceremony, the entertainment and possible guests. He describes a typical (if lavish) Elizabethan wedding complete with elements harking back to classical times. The boys' song "Hymen io Hymen, Hymen" can be traced back to Greece, with its delivery by Gaius Valerius Catullus in the first century B.C.

Stanza 9

The groom beholds his bride approaching and compares her to Phoebe (another name for Artemis, goddess of the moon) clad in white "that seems a virgin best." He finds her white attire so appropriate that she seems more angel than woman. In modesty, she avoids the gaze of the myriad admirers and blushes at the songs of praise she is receiving. This unusual stanza has a "missing line"-- a break after the ninth line of the stanza (line 156). The structure probably plays into Spenser's greater organization of lines and meter, which echo the hours of the day with great mathematical precision. There is no aesthetic reason within the stanza for the break, as it takes place three lines before the verses describing the bride's own reaction to her admirers. The comparison to Phoebe, twin sister of Phoebus, is significant since the groom has essentially bargained to take Phoebus' place of prominence this day two stanzas ago. He sees the bride as a perfect, even divine, counterpart to himself this day, as Day and Night are inextricably linked in the passage of time.

Stanza 10

The groom asks the women who see his bride if they have ever seen anyone so beautiful in their town before. He then launches into a list of all her virtues, starting with her eyes and eventually describing her whole body. The bride's overwhelming beauty causes the maidens to forget their song to stare at her. Spenser engages the blason convention, in which a woman's physical features are picked out and described in metaphorical terms. Unlike his blasons in Amoretti, this listing has no overarching connection among the various metaphors. Her eyes and forehead are described in terms of valuable items (sapphires and ivory), her cheeks and lips compared to fruit (apples and cherries), her breast is compared to a bolw of cream, her nipples to the buds of lilies, her neck to an ivory tower, and her whole body compared to a beautiful palace.

Stanza 11

The groom moves from the external beauty of the bride to her internal beauty, which he claims to see better than anyone else. He praises her lively spirit, her sweet love, her chastity, her faith, her honor, and her modesty. He insists that could her observers see her inner beauty, they would be far more awestruck by it than they already are by her outward appearance. Although not a blason like the last stanza, this set of verses is nonetheless a catalogue of the bride's inner virtues. Spenser moves for a moment away from the emphasis on outward beauty so prominent in this ode and in pagan marriage ceremonies, turning instead to his other classical influence: Platonism. He describes the ideal woman, unsullied by fleshly weakness or stray thoughts. Could the attendants see her true beauty--her absolute beauty--they would be astonished like those who saw "Medusaes mazeful hed" and were turned to stone.

Stanza 12

The groom calls for the doors to the temple to be opened that his bride may enter in and approach the altar in reverence. He offers his bride as an example for the observing maidens to follow, for she approaches this holy place with reverence and humility. Spenser shifts the imagery from that of a pagan wedding ceremony, in which the bride would be escorted to the groom's house for the wedding, to a Protestant one taking place in a church (although he describes it with the pre-Christian term "temple"). The bride enters in as a "Saynt" in the sense that she is a good Protestant Christian, and she approaches this holy place with the appropriate humility. No mention of Hymen or Phoebus is made; instead the bride approaches "before th' almighties vew." The minstrels have now become "Choristers" singing "praises of the Lord" to the accompaniment of organs.

Epithalamion
EDMUND SPENSER

Ye learned sisters which have oftentimes

Beene to me ayding, others to adorne:

Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes,

That even the greatest did not greatly scorne

To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes,

But joyed in theyr prayse.

And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,

Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,

Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,

And teach the woods and waters to lament

Your dolefull dreriment.

Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside,

And having all your heads with girland crownd,

Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound,

Ne let the same of any be envide:

So Orpheus did for his owne bride,

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,

His golden beame upon the hils doth spred,

Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe,

Doe ye awake, and with fresh lusty hed,

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,

And many a bachelor to waite on him,

In theyr fresh garments trim.

Bid her awake therefore and soone her dight,

For lo the wished day is come at last,

That shall for al the paynes and sorrowes past,

Pay to her usury of long delight:

And whylest she doth her dight,

Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing,

That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring.

Bring with you all the Nymphes that you can heare

Both of the rivers and the forrests greene:

And of the sea that neighbours to her neare,

Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene.

And let them also with them bring in hand

Another gay girland

For my fayre love of lillyes and of roses,

Bound truelove wize with a blew silke riband.

And let them make great store of bridale poses,

And let them eeke bring store of other flowers

To deck the bridale bowers.

And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,

For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong

Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along,

And diapred lyke the discolored mead.

Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,

For she will waken strayt,

The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,

The woods shall to you answer and your Eccho ring.

Ye Nymphes of Mulla which with carefull heed,

The silver scaly trouts doe tend full well,

And greedy pikes which use therein to feed,

(Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell)

And ye likewise which keepe the rushy lake,

Where none doo fishes take,

Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,

And in his waters which your mirror make,

Behold your faces as the christall bright,

That when you come whereas my love doth lie,

No blemish she may spie.

And eke ye lightfoot mayds which keepe the deere,

That on the hoary mountayne use to towre,

And the wylde wolves which seeke them to devoure,

With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer,

Be also present heere,

To helpe to decke her and to help to sing,

That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring.

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,

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.

Ah 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 lovelearned song,

The deawy leaves among.

For they of joy and pleasance to you sing,

That all the woods them answer and theyr eccho ring.

My love is now awake out of her dreames,

And her fayre eyes like stars that dimmed were

With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beames

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 Joves sweet paradice, of Day and Night,

Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot,

And al that ever in this world is fayre

Doe make and still repayre.

And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene,

The which doe still adorne her beauties pride,

Helpe to addorne 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,

The whiles the woods shal answer and your eccho ring.

Now is my love all ready forth to come,

Let all the virgins therefore well awayt,

And ye fresh boyes that tend upon her groome

Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt.

Set all your things in seemely good aray

Fit for so joyfull day,

The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see.

Faire Sun, shew forth thy favourable ray,

And let thy lifull heat not fervent be

For feare of burning her sunshyny face,

Her beauty to disgrace.

O fayrest Phoebus, father of the Muse,

If ever I did honour thee aright,

Or sing the thing, that mote thy mind delight,

Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse,

But let this day let this one day be myne,

Let all the rest be thine.

Then I thy soverayne prayses loud will sing,

That all the woods shal answer and theyr eccho ring.

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.

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 io Hymen, Hymen they do shout,

That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill

Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill,

To which the people standing all about,

As in approvance doe thereto applaud

And loud advaunce her laud,

And evermore they Hymen Hymen sing,

That al the woods them answer and theyr eccho ring.

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 seemes a virgin best.

So well it her beseemes that ye would weene

Some angell she had beene.

Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,

Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres a tweene,

Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre,

And being crowned with a girland greene,

Seeme 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 heare her prayses sung so loud,

So farre from being proud.

Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing,

That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring.

Tell me ye merchants daughters did ye see

So fayre a creature in your towne 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 cherryes charming men to byte,

Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded,

Her paps lyke lyllies budded,

Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre,

And all her body like a pallace fayre,

Ascending uppe 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 eccho ring.

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 then would ye wonder at that sight,

And stand astonisht lyke to those which red

Medusaes mazeful hed.

There dwels sweet love and constant chastity,

Unspotted fayth and comely womenhed,

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 thing uncomely ever may

Thereto approch 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 al the woods should answer and your eccho 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 recyve this Saynt with honour dew,

That commeth in to you.

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.

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,

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.

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,

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.

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:

Yet never day so long, but late would passe.

Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,

And bonefiers make all day,

And daunce about them, and about them sing:

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

Ah when will this long weary day have end,

And lende me leave to come unto my love?

How slowly do the houres theyr numbers spend?

How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?

Hast thee O fayrest Planet to thy home

Within the Westerne fome:

Thy tyred steedes long since have need of rest.

Long though it be, at last I see it gloome,

And the bright evening star with golden creast

Appeare out of the East.

Fayre childe of beauty, glorious lampe of love

That all the host of heaven in rankes doost lead,

And guydest lovers through the nightes dread,

How chearefully thou lookest from above,

And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light

As joying in the sight

Of these glad many which for joy doe sing,

That all the woods them answer and their echo ring.

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.

Now night is come, now soone her disaray,

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,

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,

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.

And let the mayds and yongmen cease to sing:

Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.

Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares,

Be heard all night within nor yet without:

Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares,

Breake gentle sleepe with misconceived dout.

Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadful sights

Make sudden sad affrights;

Ne let housefyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes,

Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights,

Ne let mischivous witches with theyr charmes,

Ne let hob Goblins, names whose sence we see not,

Fray us with things that be not.

Let not the shriech Oule, nor the Storke be heard:

Nor the night Raven that still deadly yels,

Nor damned ghosts cald up with mighty spels,

Nor griesly vultures make us once affeard:

Ne let th'unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking

Make us to wish theyr choking.

Let none of these theyr drery accents sing;

Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.

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 your bed,

And in the secret darke, that none reproves,

Their prety stelthes shal worke, and snares shal spread

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 toyes,

Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes,

Then what ye do, albe it good or ill.

All night therefore attend your merry play,

For it will soone be day:

Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing,

Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring.

Who is the same, which at my window peepes?

Or whose is that faire face, that shines so bright,

Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes,

But walkes about high heaven al the night?

O fayrest goddesse, do thou not envy

My love with me to spy:

For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought,

And for a fleece of woll, which privily,

The Latmian shephard once unto thee brought,

His pleasures with thee wrought.

Therefore to us be favorable now;

And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge,

And generation goodly dost enlarge,

Encline thy will t'effect our wishfull vow,

And the chast wombe informe with timely seed,

That may our comfort breed:

Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing,

Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho ring.

And thou great Juno, which with awful might

The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize,

And the religion of the faith first plight

With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize:

And eeke for comfort often called art

Of women in their smart,

Eternally bind thou this lovely band,

And all thy blessings unto us impart.

And thou glad Genius, in whose gentle hand,

The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine,

Without blemish or staine,

And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight

With secret ayde doest succour and supply,

Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny,

Send us the timely fruit of this same night.

And thou fayre Hebe, and thou Hymen free,

Grant that it may so be.

Til which we cease your further prayse to sing,

Ne any woods shal answer, nor your Eccho ring.

And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods,

In which a thousand torches flaming bright

Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods,

In dreadful darknesse lend desired light;

And all ye powers which in the same remayne,

More then we men can fayne,

Poure out your blessing on us plentiously,

And happy influence upon us raine,

That we may raise a large posterity,

Which from the earth, which they may long possesse,

With lasting happinesse,

Up to your haughty pallaces may mount,

And for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit

May heavenly tabernacles there inherit,

Of blessed Saints for to increase the count.

So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this,

And cease till then our tymely joyes to sing,

The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring.

Song made in lieu of many ornaments,

With which my love should duly have bene dect,

Which cutting off through hasty accidents,

Ye would not stay your dew time to expect,

But promist both to recompens,

Be unto her a goodly ornament,

And for short time an endlesse moniment.