And shortest night, when longest fitter weare : 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? Thy tyred steedes long since have need of rest. Fayre childe of beauty, glorious lampe of love And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light As joying in the sight Of these glad many which for joy doe sing, 290 That all the woods them answer and their echo ring. Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast; Lay her in lillies and in violets, And silken courteins over her display, 300 In proud humility; Like unto Maia, when as Jove her tooke, And leave my love alone, And leave likewise your former lay to sing : 310 The woods no more shal answere, nor your echo ring. Now welcome night, thou night so long expected, Spread thy broad wing over my love and me, And in thy sable mantle us enwrap, From feare of perrill and foule horror free. But let the night be calme and quietsome, 320 330 And let the mayds and yongmen cease to sing : Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares, Ne let housefyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes, 340 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, Let not the shriech Oule, nor the Storke be heard: Nor the night Raven that still deadly yels, Ne let th'unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking 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, Like divers fethered doves, Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, And in the secret darke, that none reproves, 350 360 Their prety stealthes 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, 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 ? 370 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, The Latmian shephard once unto thee brought, Therefore to us be favorable now; And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge, Encline thy will t'effect our wishfull vow, And the chast wombe informe with timely seed, 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 And the religion of the faith first plight Of women in their smart, Eternally bind thou this lovely band, And thou glad Genius, in whose gentle hand, And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight Til which we cease your further prayse to sing, 380 390 400 And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods, And all ye powers which in the same remayne, Poure out your blessing on us plentiously, And happy influence upon us raine, That we may raise a large posterity, 410 Which from the earth, which they may long possesse, With lasting happinesse, Up to your haughty pallaces may mount, Of blessed Saints for to increase the count. 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, Ye would not stay your dew time to expect, Be unto her a goodly ornament, And for short time an endlesse moniment. AN HYMNE IN HONOUR OF BEAUTIE Ан whither, Love, wilt thou now carrie mee? 420 430 |