Which darted is from Titans flaming head,
That with his beames enlumineth the darke
And dampish aire, whereby al things are red;
Whose nature yet so much is marvelled
Of mortall wits, that it doth much amaze
The greatest wisards which thereon do gaze.

But that immortall light, which there doth shine,

The fairenesse of her face no tongue can tell ;
For she the daughters of all wemens race,
And Angels eke, in beautie doth excell,
Sparkled on her from Gods owne glorious face,
And more increast by her owne goodly grace,
That it doth farre exceed all humane thought,
Ne can on earth compared be to ought.

Ne could that Painter (had he lived yet)
Which pictured Venus with so curious quill,
That all posteritie admyred it,

Have purtrayd this, for all his maistring skill;
Ne she her selfe, had she remained still,
And were as faire as fabling wits do fayne,
Could once come neare this beauty soverayne.

For from th' Eternall Truth it doth proceed, Through heavenly vertue which her beames doe breed.

With the great glorie of that wondrous light
His throne is all encompassed around,
And hid in his owne brightnesse from the
sight

Of all that looke thereon with eyes unsound;
And underneath his feet are to be found
Thunder, and lightning, and tempestuous fyre,
The instruments of his avenging yre.
There in his bosome Sapience doth sit,
The soveraine dearling of the Deity,
Clad like a Queene in royall robes, most fit
For so great powre and peerelesse majesty,
And all with gemmes and jewels gorgeously
Adornd, that brighter then the starres appeare,
And make her native brightnes seem more
cleare.

And on her head a crowne of purest gold
Is set, in signe of highest sovereignty;
And in her hand a scepter she doth hold,
With which she rules the house of God on hy,
And menageth the ever-moving sky,
And in the same these lower creatures all
Subjected to her powre imperiall.

Both heaven and earth obey unto her will,
And all the creatures which they both containe;

For of her fulnesse which the world doth fill
They all partake, and do in state remaine
As their great Maker did at first ordaine,
Through observation of her high beheast,
By which they first were made, and still in-

creast.

prayse,

Seene but a glims of this which I pretend,
How wondrously would he her face commend,
Above that Idole of his fayning thought,
That all the world shold with his rimes be
fraught!

How then dare I, the novice of his Art,
Presume to picture so divine a wight,
Or hope t' expresse her least perfections part,
Whose beautie filles the heavens with her light,
And darkes the earth with shadow of her
sight?

Ah, gentle Muse! thou art too weake and faint
The pourtraict of so heavenly hew to paint.

Let Angels, which her goodly face behold
And see at will, her soveraigne praises sing,
And those most sacred mysteries unfold
Of that faire love of mightie heavens King;
Enough is me t' admyre so heavenly thing,
And, being thus with her huge love possest,
In th' only wonder of her selfe to rest,
But who so may, thrise happie man him hold,
Of all on earth whom God so much doth grace,
And lets his owne Beloved to behold;
For in the view of her celestiall face

All joy, all blisse, all happinesse, have place;
Ne ought on earth can want unto the wight
Who of her selfe can win the wishfull sight.
For she, out of her secret threasury
Plentie of riches forth on him will powre,
Within the closet of her chastest bowre,
Even heavenly riches, which there hidden ly
Th' eternall portion of her precious dowre,
Which mighty God hath given to her free,
And to all those which thereof worthy bee.
None thereof worthy be, but those whom shee
Vouchsafeth to her presence to receave,

d letteth them her lovely face to see, ereof such wondrous pleasures they conceave,

1 sweete contentment, that it doth bereave ir soule of sense, through infinite delight, them transport from flesh into the spright. hich they see such admirable things, arries them into an extasy, heare such heavenly notes and carolings, Gods high praise, that filles the brasen sky; I feele such joy and pleasure inwardly, it maketh them all worldly cares forget, onely thinke on that before them set. from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense, idle thought of earthly things, remaine;

all that earst seemd sweet seemes now offense,

d all that pleased earst now seemes to paine; eir joy, their comfort, their desire, their gaine, ixed all on that which now they see; other sights but fayned shadowes bee.

that faire lampe, which useth to inflame e hearts of men with selfe-consuming fyre enceforth seemes fowle, and full of sinfull blame; [aspyre

Seemes to them basenesse, and all riches drosse,
And all mirth sadnesse, and all lucre losse.
So full their eyes are of that glorious sight,
And senses fraught with such satietie,
That in nought else on earth they can delight,
But in th' aspect of that felicitie,
Which they have written in their inward ey;
On which they feed, and in their fastened mynd
All happie joy and full contentment fynd."

Ah, then, my hungry soule' which long hast
On idle fancies of thy foolish thought, [fed
And, with false beauties flattring bait misled,
Hast after vaine deceiptfull shadowes sought,
Which all are fled, and now have left thee
nought

But late repentance through thy follies prief; Ah! ceasse to gaze on matter of thy grief: And looke at last up to that Soveraine Light, From whose pure beams al perfect beauty

springs,

Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay

gemmes

Fit to decke maydens bowres, And crowne their Paramours

Against the Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song

There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers side,
A Flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,
All lovely Daughters of the Flood thereby,
With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,
As each had bene a Bryde;

And each one had a little wicker basket,
Made of fine twigs, entrayled curiously,
In which they gathered flowers to fill their
flasket,

And with fine Fingers cropt full feateously
The tender stalkes on hye.

Of every sort, which in that Meadow grew,
They gathered some; the Violet, pallid blew,
The little Dazie, that at evening closes,
The virgin Lillie, and the Primrose trew,
With store of vermeil Roses,
To decke their Bridegromes posies
Against the Brydale day, which was not long:
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end
my Song.

With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe
Come softly swimming downe along the Lee;
Two fairer Birds I yet did never see;~~
The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew,
Did never whiter shew,

That they appeare, through Lillies plenteous
Like a Brydes Chamber flore.
Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two
Garlands bound

[found, of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they The which presenting all in trim Array, Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they Whil'st one did sing this Lay, [crownd, Prepar'd against that Day, [long:

Against their Brydale day, which was not Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

'Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament,

spare

And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love,

smile,

my Song.

I

Flowers their fill,

Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre,

Which may your foes confound,
Upon your Brydale day, which is not long:
And make your joyes redound
Sweete Themmes! runne softlie, till I end
my Song.'

To be begot of any earthly Seede,

But rather Angels, or of Angels breede;

So fresh they seem'd as day,

Making his streame run slow.

their best service lend

[towres

ngth they all to mery London came, ery London, my most kyndly Nurse, to me gave this Lifes first native sourse, igh from another place I take my name, ouse of auncient fame: e when they came, whereas those bricky which on Themmes brode aged backe doe ryde, [bowers, ere now the studious Lawyers have their e whylome wont the Templer Knights to they decayd through pride: [byde, t whereunto there standes a stately place, re oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace hat great Lord, which therein wont to dwell, [case; se want too well now feeles my freendles

ah! here fits not well woes, but joyes, to tell gainst the bridale daye, which is not long: weete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

therein now doth lodge a noble Peer, it Englands glory, and the Worlds wide wonder, [did thunder, ɔse dreadfull name late through all Spaine Hercules two pillors standing neere make to quake and feare:

e branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie!

Which some brave musé may sing
Upon the Brydale day, which is not long:
To ages following.
Sweete Themmes! runne softly till I end
my Song.

From those high Towers this noble Lord issuing,

In th' Ocean billowes he hath bathed fayre,
Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre
With a great traine ensuing.
Descended to the Rivers open vewing,

Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,
Above the rest were goodly to bee seene
Beseeming well the bower of anie Queene,
With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature,
Fit for so goodly stature,

sight,

That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in [bright; Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heavens They two, forth pacing to the Rivers side, Received those two faire Brides, their Loves delight;

Which, at th' appointed tyde,
Each one did make his Bryde

Against their Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

I

the right worshipfull my singular good frend, M. Gabriell Harvey, Doctor of the Lawes,

ARVEY, the happy above happiest men read; that, sitting like a Looker-on

this worldes Stage, doest note with critique pen

he sharpe dislikes of each condition:

nd, as one carelesse of suspition,

e fawnest for the favour of the great;

e fearest foolish reprehension

Of faulty men, which daunger to thee threat: But freely doest, of what thee list, entreat, Like a great Lord of peerelesse liberty; Lifting the Good up to high Honours seat, And the Evill damning evermore to dy:

For Life, and Death, is in thy doomefull writing!

So thy renowme lives ever by endighting.

Dublin, this xviij. of July, 1586.

Your devoted frend, during life,
EDMUND SPENCER.