Loe! where she comes along with portly pace,
Lyke Phbe, 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
Some angell she had beene.
Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,
Sprinckled with perle,
and perling flowres atweene,
Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre;
And, being crownàd with a girland greene,
lyke some mayden Queene.
Her modest eyes, abashàd to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
the lowly ground affixàd are;
Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,
But blush to heare her prayses sung
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,
Adorned with beautyes grace and vertues store?
Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres
Her forehead yvory white,
Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded,
lyke cherryes charming men to byte,
Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded,
Her paps lyke lyllies
Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre;
And all her body like a pallace fayre,
with many a stately stayre,
To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre.
Why stand ye still ye virgins in
Upon her so to gaze,
While 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
Medusaes mazeful hed.
There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity,
Unspotted fayth, and
Regard of honour, and mild modesty;
There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne,
giveth lawes alone,
The which the base affections doe obay,
And yeeld theyr services unto her will;
thought of thing uncomely ever may
Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill.
Had ye once seene these
her celestial threasures,
And unrevealàd pleasures,
Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing,
the woods should answer, and your echo 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 receyve this Saynt with honour dew,
commeth in to you.
With trembling steps, and humble reverence,
She commeth in, before th Almighties
Of her ye virgins learne obedience,
When so ye come into those holy places,
To humble your proud
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;
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
Like crimsin dyde in grayne:
That even th Angels, which continually
About the sacred Altare
Forget their service and about her fly,
Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fayre,
more they on it stare.
But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground.
Are governàd with goodly modesty,
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,
heaven would heape with blis,
Make feast therefore now all this live-long day;
This day for ever to me
Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,
Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,
to all that wull,
And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,
That they may sweat, and drunken be
Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall,
And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine;
the Graces daunce unto the rest,
For they can doo it best:
The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,
which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho ring.