EDMUND SPENSER

Of your loves couplement ;

And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love,

With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile,

Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove

All Loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile

For ever to assoile.

Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord,

And blessed Plentie wait upon your bord ;

And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,

That fruitfull issue may to you afford,

Which may your foes confound,

And make your joyes redound

Upon your Brydale day, which is not long :

Sweete Themmes ! runne softlie, till I end my Song.'

So ended she ; and all the rest around

To her redoubled that her undersong,

Which said their brydale daye should not be long :

And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground

Their accents did resound.

So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along,

Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low,

As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,

Yet did by signes his glad affection show,

Making his streame run slow.

And all the foule which in his flood did dwell

Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell

The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend

The lesser starres. So they, enrang&d well,

Did on those two attend,

And their best service lend

Against their wedding day, which was not long :

Sweete Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my Song.

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