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Bynd up the locks the which hang scattered 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 dore,
That on the hoary mountayne use to towre;
And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure,
With your steele darts doe chace from coming neere;
Be also present heere,

To help to decke her, and to help to sing, [ring.
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho

Wake now, my love, awake; for it is time;
The rosy Morne long since left Tithons bed,
All ready to her silver coche to clyme;
And Phœbus gins to shew his glorious hed.
Hark! how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies,
And carroll of loves praise.

The merry larke her 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 ioyous make,
And hearken to the birds love-learned song,
The deawy leaves among!

For they of ioy and pleasaunce to you sing, [ring.
That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho

My love is now awake out of her dreame,
And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmed were

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 loves 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 eccho ring.

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 towre;
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 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 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 commeth in, 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 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.
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

ring.

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