A Nimph is marryed to a Fay,Great preparations for the Day,All Rites of Nuptials they recite youTo the Brydall and inuite you.Mertilla.But will ourTitawed this Fay?Claia.Yea, and to morrow is the day.Mertilla.But why should she bestow her selfeVpon this dwarfish Fayry Elfe?Claia.Why by her smalnesse you may finde,That she is of the Fayry kinde,And therefore apt to chuse her makeWhence she did her begining take:Besides he 's deft and wondrous Ayrye,10And of the noblest of the Fayry,Chiefe of the Crickets of much fame,In Fayry a most ancient name.But to be briefe, 'tis cleerely done,The pretty wench is woo'd and wonne.Cloris.If this be so, let vs prouideThe Ornaments to fit our Bryde.For they knowing she doth comeFrom vs inElizium,QueeneMabwill looke she should be drest20In those attyres we thinke our best,Therefore some curious things lets giue her,E'r to her Spouse we her deliuer.Mertilla.Ile haue a Iewell for her eare,(Which for my sake Ile haue her weare)'T shall be a Dewdrop, and thereinOf Cupids I will haue a twinne,Which strugling, with their wings shall breakThe Bubble, out of which shall leak,So sweet a liquor as shall moue30Each thing that smels, to be in loue.Claia.Beleeue me Gerle, this will be fine,And to this Pendant, then take mine;A Cup in fashion of a Fly,Of the Linxes piercing eye,Wherein there sticks a Sunny RayShot in through the cleerest day,Whose brightnesseVenusselfe did moue,Therein to put her drinke of Loue,Which for more strength she did distill,40The Limbeck was aPhœnixquill,At this Cups delicious brinke,A Fly approching but to drinke,Like Amber or some precious GummeIt transparant doth become.Cloris.For Iewels for her eares she's sped,But for a dressing for her headI thinke for her I haue a Tyer,That all Fayryes shall admyre,The yellowes in the full-blowne Rose,50Which in the top it doth incloseLike drops of gold Oare shall be hung;Vpon her Tresses, and amongThose scattered seeds (the eye to please)The wings of the Cantharides:With some o' th' Raine-bow that doth raileThose Moons in, in the Peacocks taile:Whose dainty colours being mixtWith th' other beauties, and so fixt,Her louely Tresses shall appeare,60As though vpon a flame they were.And to be sure she shall be gay,We'll take those feathers from the Iay;About her eyes in Circlets set,To be ourTita'sCoronet.Mertilla.Then dainty Girles I make no doubt,But we shall neatly send her out:But let's amongst our selues agree,Of what her wedding Gowne shall be.Claia.Of Pansie, Pincke, and Primrose leaues,70Most curiously laid on in Threaues:And all embroydery to supply,Powthred with flowers of Rosemary:A trayle about the skirt shall runne,The Silkewormes finest, newly spunne;And euery Seame the Nimphs shall sewWith th' smallest of the Spinners Clue:And hauing done their worke, againeThese to the Church shall beare her Traine:Which for ourTitawe will make80Of the cast slough of a Snake,Which quiuering as the winde doth blow,The Sunne shall it like Tinsell shew.Cloris.And being led to meet her mate,To make sure that she want no state,Moones from the Peacockes tayle wee'll shred,With feathers from the Pheasants head:Mix'd with the plume of (so high price,)The precious bird of Paradice.Which to make vp, our Nimphes shall ply90Into a curious Canopy.Borne o're her head (by our enquiry)By Elfes, the fittest of the Faery.Mertilla.But all this while we haue forgotHer Buskins, neighbours, haue we not?Claia.We had, for those I'le fit her now,They shall be of the Lady-Cow:The dainty shell vpon her backeOf Crimson strew'd with spots of blacke;Which as she holds a stately pace,100Her Leg will wonderfully grace.Cloris.But then for musicke of the best,This must be thought on for the Feast.Mertilla.The Nightingale of birds most choyce,To doe her best shall straine her voyce;And to this bird to make a Set,The Mauis, Merle, and Robinet;The Larke, the Lennet, and the Thrush,That make a Quier of euery Bush.But for still musicke, we will keepe110The Wren, and Titmouse, which to sleepeShall sing the Bride, when shee's aloneThe rest into their chambers gone.And like those vpon Ropes that walkeOn Gossimer, from staulke to staulke,The tripping Fayry tricks shall playThe euening of the wedding day.Claia.But for the Bride-bed, what were fit,That hath not beene talk'd of yet.Cloris.Of leaues of Roses white and red,120Shall be the Couering of her bed:The Curtaines, Valence, Tester, all,Shall be the flower Imperiall,And for the Fringe, it all alongWith azure Harebels shall be hung:Of Lillies shall the Pillowes be,With downe stuft of the Butterflee.Mertilla.Thus farre we handsomely haue gone,Now for our ProthalamionOr Marriage song of all the rest,130A thing that much must grace our feast.Let vs practise then to sing it,Ere we before th' assembly bring it:We in Dialogues must doe it,The my dainty Girles set to it.Claia.This day mustTitamarryed be,Come Nimphs this nuptiall let vs see.Mertilla.But is it certaine that ye say,Will she wed the Noble Faye?Cloris.Sprinckle the dainty flowers with dewes,140Such as the Gods at Banquets vse:Let Hearbs and Weeds turne all to Roses,And make proud the posts with posies:Shute your sweets into the ayre,Charge the morning to be fayre.Claia. }For ourTitais this day,Mertilla. }To be married to a Faye.Claia.By whom then shall our Bride be ledTo the Temple to be wed.Mertilla.Onely by your selfe and I,150Who that roomth should else supply?Cloris.Come bright Girles, come altogether,And bring all your offrings hither,Ye most braue and Buxome Beuye,All your goodly graces Leuye,Come in Maiestie and stateOur Brydall here to celebrate.Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Faye.Claia.Whose lot wilt be the way to strow160On which to Church our Bride must goe?Mertilla.That I think as fit'st of all,To liuelyLelipawill fall.Cloris.Summon all the sweets that are,To this nuptiall to repayre;Till with their throngs themselues they smother,Strongly styfling one another;And at last they all consume,And vanish in one rich perfume.Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,170Claia. }Married to a noble Faye.Mertilla.By whom mustTitamarried be,'Tis fit we all to that should see?Claia.The Priest he purposely doth come,Th' Arch Flamyne of Elizium.Cloris.With Tapers let the Temples shine,Sing to Himen, Hymnes diuine:Load the Altars till there riseClouds from the burnt sacrifice;With your Sensors fling aloofe180Their smels, till they ascend the Roofe.Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.Mertilla.But comming backe when she is wed,Who breakes the Cake aboue her head.Claia.That shallMertilla, for shee's tallest,And ourTitais the smallest.Cloris.Violins, strike vp aloud,Ply the Gitterne, scowre the Crowd,Let the nimble hand belabour190The whistling Pipe, and drumbling Taber:To the full the Bagpipe racke,Till the swelling leather cracke.Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.Claia.But when to dyne she takes her seateWhat shall be ourTita'smeate?Mertilla.The Gods this Feast, as to begin,Haue sent of their Ambrosia in.Cloris.Then serue we vp the strawes rich berry,The Respas, and Elizian Cherry:200The virgin honey from the flowersIn Hibla, wrought inFlora'sbowers:Full Bowles of Nectar, and no GirleCarouse but in dissolued Pearle.Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.Claia.But when night comes, and she must goeTo Bed, deare Nimphes what must we doe?Mertilla.In the Posset must be brought,210And Poynts be from the Bridegroome caught.Cloris.In Maskes, in Dances, and delight,And reare Banquets spend the night:Then about the Roome we ramble,Scatter Nuts, and for them scramble:Ouer Stooles, and Tables tumble,Neuer thinke of noyse nor rumble.Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.
A Nimph is marryed to a Fay,Great preparations for the Day,All Rites of Nuptials they recite youTo the Brydall and inuite you.
Mertilla.But will ourTitawed this Fay?
Claia.Yea, and to morrow is the day.
Mertilla.But why should she bestow her selfeVpon this dwarfish Fayry Elfe?
Claia.Why by her smalnesse you may finde,That she is of the Fayry kinde,And therefore apt to chuse her makeWhence she did her begining take:Besides he 's deft and wondrous Ayrye,10And of the noblest of the Fayry,Chiefe of the Crickets of much fame,In Fayry a most ancient name.But to be briefe, 'tis cleerely done,The pretty wench is woo'd and wonne.
Cloris.If this be so, let vs prouideThe Ornaments to fit our Bryde.For they knowing she doth comeFrom vs inElizium,QueeneMabwill looke she should be drest20In those attyres we thinke our best,Therefore some curious things lets giue her,E'r to her Spouse we her deliuer.
Mertilla.Ile haue a Iewell for her eare,(Which for my sake Ile haue her weare)'T shall be a Dewdrop, and thereinOf Cupids I will haue a twinne,Which strugling, with their wings shall breakThe Bubble, out of which shall leak,So sweet a liquor as shall moue30Each thing that smels, to be in loue.
Claia.Beleeue me Gerle, this will be fine,And to this Pendant, then take mine;A Cup in fashion of a Fly,Of the Linxes piercing eye,Wherein there sticks a Sunny RayShot in through the cleerest day,Whose brightnesseVenusselfe did moue,Therein to put her drinke of Loue,Which for more strength she did distill,40The Limbeck was aPhœnixquill,At this Cups delicious brinke,A Fly approching but to drinke,Like Amber or some precious GummeIt transparant doth become.
Cloris.For Iewels for her eares she's sped,But for a dressing for her headI thinke for her I haue a Tyer,That all Fayryes shall admyre,The yellowes in the full-blowne Rose,50Which in the top it doth incloseLike drops of gold Oare shall be hung;Vpon her Tresses, and amongThose scattered seeds (the eye to please)The wings of the Cantharides:With some o' th' Raine-bow that doth raileThose Moons in, in the Peacocks taile:Whose dainty colours being mixtWith th' other beauties, and so fixt,Her louely Tresses shall appeare,60As though vpon a flame they were.And to be sure she shall be gay,We'll take those feathers from the Iay;About her eyes in Circlets set,To be ourTita'sCoronet.
Mertilla.Then dainty Girles I make no doubt,But we shall neatly send her out:But let's amongst our selues agree,Of what her wedding Gowne shall be.
Claia.Of Pansie, Pincke, and Primrose leaues,70Most curiously laid on in Threaues:And all embroydery to supply,Powthred with flowers of Rosemary:A trayle about the skirt shall runne,The Silkewormes finest, newly spunne;And euery Seame the Nimphs shall sewWith th' smallest of the Spinners Clue:And hauing done their worke, againeThese to the Church shall beare her Traine:Which for ourTitawe will make80Of the cast slough of a Snake,Which quiuering as the winde doth blow,The Sunne shall it like Tinsell shew.
Cloris.And being led to meet her mate,To make sure that she want no state,Moones from the Peacockes tayle wee'll shred,With feathers from the Pheasants head:Mix'd with the plume of (so high price,)The precious bird of Paradice.Which to make vp, our Nimphes shall ply90Into a curious Canopy.Borne o're her head (by our enquiry)By Elfes, the fittest of the Faery.
Mertilla.But all this while we haue forgotHer Buskins, neighbours, haue we not?
Claia.We had, for those I'le fit her now,They shall be of the Lady-Cow:The dainty shell vpon her backeOf Crimson strew'd with spots of blacke;Which as she holds a stately pace,100Her Leg will wonderfully grace.
Cloris.But then for musicke of the best,This must be thought on for the Feast.
Mertilla.The Nightingale of birds most choyce,To doe her best shall straine her voyce;And to this bird to make a Set,The Mauis, Merle, and Robinet;The Larke, the Lennet, and the Thrush,That make a Quier of euery Bush.But for still musicke, we will keepe110The Wren, and Titmouse, which to sleepeShall sing the Bride, when shee's aloneThe rest into their chambers gone.And like those vpon Ropes that walkeOn Gossimer, from staulke to staulke,The tripping Fayry tricks shall playThe euening of the wedding day.
Claia.But for the Bride-bed, what were fit,That hath not beene talk'd of yet.
Cloris.Of leaues of Roses white and red,120Shall be the Couering of her bed:The Curtaines, Valence, Tester, all,Shall be the flower Imperiall,And for the Fringe, it all alongWith azure Harebels shall be hung:Of Lillies shall the Pillowes be,With downe stuft of the Butterflee.
Mertilla.Thus farre we handsomely haue gone,Now for our ProthalamionOr Marriage song of all the rest,130A thing that much must grace our feast.Let vs practise then to sing it,Ere we before th' assembly bring it:We in Dialogues must doe it,The my dainty Girles set to it.
Claia.This day mustTitamarryed be,Come Nimphs this nuptiall let vs see.
Mertilla.But is it certaine that ye say,Will she wed the Noble Faye?
Cloris.Sprinckle the dainty flowers with dewes,140Such as the Gods at Banquets vse:Let Hearbs and Weeds turne all to Roses,And make proud the posts with posies:Shute your sweets into the ayre,Charge the morning to be fayre.
Claia. }For ourTitais this day,Mertilla. }To be married to a Faye.
Claia.By whom then shall our Bride be ledTo the Temple to be wed.
Mertilla.Onely by your selfe and I,150Who that roomth should else supply?
Cloris.Come bright Girles, come altogether,And bring all your offrings hither,Ye most braue and Buxome Beuye,All your goodly graces Leuye,Come in Maiestie and stateOur Brydall here to celebrate.
Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Faye.
Claia.Whose lot wilt be the way to strow160On which to Church our Bride must goe?
Mertilla.That I think as fit'st of all,To liuelyLelipawill fall.
Cloris.Summon all the sweets that are,To this nuptiall to repayre;Till with their throngs themselues they smother,Strongly styfling one another;And at last they all consume,And vanish in one rich perfume.
Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,170Claia. }Married to a noble Faye.
Mertilla.By whom mustTitamarried be,'Tis fit we all to that should see?
Claia.The Priest he purposely doth come,Th' Arch Flamyne of Elizium.
Cloris.With Tapers let the Temples shine,Sing to Himen, Hymnes diuine:Load the Altars till there riseClouds from the burnt sacrifice;With your Sensors fling aloofe180Their smels, till they ascend the Roofe.
Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.
Mertilla.But comming backe when she is wed,Who breakes the Cake aboue her head.
Claia.That shallMertilla, for shee's tallest,And ourTitais the smallest.
Cloris.Violins, strike vp aloud,Ply the Gitterne, scowre the Crowd,Let the nimble hand belabour190The whistling Pipe, and drumbling Taber:To the full the Bagpipe racke,Till the swelling leather cracke.
Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.
Claia.But when to dyne she takes her seateWhat shall be ourTita'smeate?
Mertilla.The Gods this Feast, as to begin,Haue sent of their Ambrosia in.
Cloris.Then serue we vp the strawes rich berry,The Respas, and Elizian Cherry:200The virgin honey from the flowersIn Hibla, wrought inFlora'sbowers:Full Bowles of Nectar, and no GirleCarouse but in dissolued Pearle.
Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.
Claia.But when night comes, and she must goeTo Bed, deare Nimphes what must we doe?
Mertilla.In the Posset must be brought,210And Poynts be from the Bridegroome caught.
Cloris.In Maskes, in Dances, and delight,And reare Banquets spend the night:Then about the Roome we ramble,Scatter Nuts, and for them scramble:Ouer Stooles, and Tables tumble,Neuer thinke of noyse nor rumble.
Mertilla. }For ourTitais this day,Claia. }Married to a noble Fay.
The Muses spend their lofty layes,VponApolloand his prayse;The Nimphs with Gems his Alter build,This Nimphall is withPhœbusfild.A Temple of exceeding state,The Nimphes and Muses rearing,Which they toPhœbusdedicate,Elizium euer cheering:These Muses, and those Nimphes contendThis Phane toPhœbusoffring,Which side the other should transcend,These praise, those prizes proffering,And at this long appointed day,10Each one their largesse bringing,Those nine faire Sisters led the wayThus toApollosinging.The Muses.Thou youthfull God that guid'st the howres,The Muses thus implore thee,By all those Names, due to thy powers,By which we still adore thee.Sol,Tytan,Delius,Cynthius, stylesMuch reuerence that have wonne thee,Deriu'd from Mountaines as from Iles20Where worship first was done thee.RichDelosbrought thee forth diuine,Thy Mother thither driven,AtDelphosthy most sacred shrine,Thy Oracles were giuen.In thy swift course from East to West,They minutes misse to finde thee,That bear'st the morning on thy breast,And leau'st the night behinde thee.Vp to Olimpus top so steepe,30Thy startling Coursers currying;Thence downe to Neptunes vasty deepe,Thy flaming Charriot hurrying.Eos,Ethon,Phlegon,Pirois, proud,The horses drawing the Chariot of the Sunne.Their lightning Maynes aduancing:Breathing forth fire on euery cloudVpon their Iourney prancing.Whose sparkling hoofes, with gold for speedAre shod, to scape all dangers,Where they upon Ambrosia feed,40In their celestiall Mangers.BrightColatina, that of hilsThe mountaines first saluting the Sunne at his rising.Is Goddesse, and hath keepingHer Nimphes, the cleereOreadeswilsT'attend thee from thy sleeping.* Supposed the God of earth.Great*Demogorgonfeeles thy might,His Mynes about him heating:Who through his bosome dart'st thy light,Within the Center sweating.If thou but touch thy golden Lyre,50ThouMinosmou'st to heare thee:One of the Iudges of hell.The Rockes feele in themselues a fire,And rise vp to come neere thee.'Tis thou that Physicke didst deuiseHearbs by their natures calling:Of which some opening at thy Rise,And closing at thy falling.FayreHyacinththy most lou'd Lad,That with the sledge thou sluest;Hath in a flower the life he had,60Whose root thou still renewest,ThyDaphnethy beloued Tree,That scornes thy Fathers Thunder,And thy deareClitiayet we see,A Nimph lou'd ofApollo, and by him changed into a flower.Not time from thee can sunder;From thy bright Bow that Arrow flew(Snatcht from thy golden Quiver)Which that fell SerpentPythonslew,Renowning thee for euer.TheActianand thePythianGamesPlayes or Games in honor ofApollo.70Deuised were to praise thee,With all th'ApolinarynamesThat th' Ancients thought could raise thee.A Shryne vpon this Mountaine hie,To thee we'll haue erected,Which thou the God of PoesieMust care to haue protected:With thy loudCinthusthat shall share,With all his shady Bowers,NorLicia's Cragusshall compare80With this, for thee, of ours.Thus hauing sung, the Nimphish CrueThrust in amongst them thronging,Desiring they might haue the dueThat was to them belonging.Quoth they, ye Muses as diuine,Are in his glories graced,But it is we must build the ShryneWherein they must be placed;Which of those precious Gemmes we'll make90That Nature can affoord vs,Which from that plenty we will take,Wherewith we here have stor'd vs:O gloriousPhœbusmost diuine,Thine Altars then we hallow.And with those stones we build a ShryneTo thee our wiseApollo.The Nimphes.No Gem, from Rocke, Seas, running streames,(Their numbers let vs muster)But hath from thy most powerfull beames100The Vertue and the Lustre;The Diamond, the King of Gemmes,The first is to be placed,That glory is of Diadems,Them gracing, by them graced:In whom thy power the most is seene,The raging fire refelling:The Emerauld then, most deepely greene,For beauty most excelling,Resisting poyson often prou'd110By those about that beare it.The cheerfull Ruby then, much lou'd,That doth reuiue the spirit,Whose kinde to large extensure growneThe colour so enflamed,Is that admired mighty stoneThe Carbunckle that's named,Which from it such a flaming lightAnd radiency eiecteth,That in the very dark'st of night120The eye to it directeth.The yellow Iacynth, strengthening Sense,Of which who hath the keeping,No Thunder hurts nor Pestilence,And much prouoketh sleeping:The Chrisolite, that doth resistThirst, proued, neuer failing,The purple colored Amatist,'Gainst strength of wine prevailing;The verdant gay greene Smaragdus,130Most soueraine ouer passion:The Sardonix approu'd by vsTo master Incantation.Then that celestiall colored stoneThe Saphyre, heauenly wholly,Which worne, there wearinesse is none,And cureth melancholly:The Lazulus, whose pleasant blewWith golden vaines is graced;The Iaspis, of so various hew,140Amongst our other placed;The Onix from the Ancients brought,Of wondrous Estimation,Shall in amongst the rest be wroughtOur sacred Shryne to fashion;The Topas, we'll stick here and there,And sea-greene colored Berill,And Turkesse, which who haps to beareIs often kept from perill,To Selenite, ofCynthia'slight,150So nam'd, with her still ranging,Which as she wanes or waxeth brightIts colours so are changing.With Opalls, more then any one,We'll deck thine Altar fuller,For that of euery precious stone,It doth retaine some colour;With bunches of Pearle ParagonThine Altars vnderpropping,Whose base is the Cornelian,160Strong bleeding often stopping:With th' Agot, very oft that isCut strangely in the Quarry,As Nature ment to show in this,How she her selfe can varry:With worlds of Gems from Mines and SeasElizium well might store vs:But we content our selues with theseThat readiest lye before vs:And thus OPhœbusmost diuine170Thine Altars still we hallow,And to thy Godhead reare this ShryneOur onely wiseApollo.
The Muses spend their lofty layes,VponApolloand his prayse;The Nimphs with Gems his Alter build,This Nimphall is withPhœbusfild.
A Temple of exceeding state,The Nimphes and Muses rearing,Which they toPhœbusdedicate,Elizium euer cheering:These Muses, and those Nimphes contendThis Phane toPhœbusoffring,Which side the other should transcend,These praise, those prizes proffering,And at this long appointed day,10Each one their largesse bringing,Those nine faire Sisters led the wayThus toApollosinging.
The Muses.Thou youthfull God that guid'st the howres,The Muses thus implore thee,By all those Names, due to thy powers,By which we still adore thee.Sol,Tytan,Delius,Cynthius, stylesMuch reuerence that have wonne thee,Deriu'd from Mountaines as from Iles20Where worship first was done thee.RichDelosbrought thee forth diuine,Thy Mother thither driven,AtDelphosthy most sacred shrine,Thy Oracles were giuen.In thy swift course from East to West,They minutes misse to finde thee,That bear'st the morning on thy breast,And leau'st the night behinde thee.Vp to Olimpus top so steepe,30Thy startling Coursers currying;Thence downe to Neptunes vasty deepe,Thy flaming Charriot hurrying.Eos,Ethon,Phlegon,Pirois, proud,The horses drawing the Chariot of the Sunne.Their lightning Maynes aduancing:Breathing forth fire on euery cloudVpon their Iourney prancing.Whose sparkling hoofes, with gold for speedAre shod, to scape all dangers,Where they upon Ambrosia feed,40In their celestiall Mangers.BrightColatina, that of hilsThe mountaines first saluting the Sunne at his rising.Is Goddesse, and hath keepingHer Nimphes, the cleereOreadeswilsT'attend thee from thy sleeping.* Supposed the God of earth.Great*Demogorgonfeeles thy might,His Mynes about him heating:Who through his bosome dart'st thy light,Within the Center sweating.If thou but touch thy golden Lyre,50ThouMinosmou'st to heare thee:One of the Iudges of hell.The Rockes feele in themselues a fire,And rise vp to come neere thee.'Tis thou that Physicke didst deuiseHearbs by their natures calling:Of which some opening at thy Rise,And closing at thy falling.FayreHyacinththy most lou'd Lad,That with the sledge thou sluest;Hath in a flower the life he had,60Whose root thou still renewest,ThyDaphnethy beloued Tree,That scornes thy Fathers Thunder,And thy deareClitiayet we see,A Nimph lou'd ofApollo, and by him changed into a flower.Not time from thee can sunder;From thy bright Bow that Arrow flew(Snatcht from thy golden Quiver)Which that fell SerpentPythonslew,Renowning thee for euer.TheActianand thePythianGamesPlayes or Games in honor ofApollo.70Deuised were to praise thee,With all th'ApolinarynamesThat th' Ancients thought could raise thee.A Shryne vpon this Mountaine hie,To thee we'll haue erected,Which thou the God of PoesieMust care to haue protected:With thy loudCinthusthat shall share,With all his shady Bowers,NorLicia's Cragusshall compare80With this, for thee, of ours.
The horses drawing the Chariot of the Sunne.
The mountaines first saluting the Sunne at his rising.
* Supposed the God of earth.
One of the Iudges of hell.
A Nimph lou'd ofApollo, and by him changed into a flower.
Playes or Games in honor ofApollo.
Thus hauing sung, the Nimphish CrueThrust in amongst them thronging,Desiring they might haue the dueThat was to them belonging.Quoth they, ye Muses as diuine,Are in his glories graced,But it is we must build the ShryneWherein they must be placed;Which of those precious Gemmes we'll make90That Nature can affoord vs,Which from that plenty we will take,Wherewith we here have stor'd vs:O gloriousPhœbusmost diuine,Thine Altars then we hallow.And with those stones we build a ShryneTo thee our wiseApollo.
The Nimphes.No Gem, from Rocke, Seas, running streames,(Their numbers let vs muster)But hath from thy most powerfull beames100The Vertue and the Lustre;The Diamond, the King of Gemmes,The first is to be placed,That glory is of Diadems,Them gracing, by them graced:In whom thy power the most is seene,The raging fire refelling:The Emerauld then, most deepely greene,For beauty most excelling,Resisting poyson often prou'd110By those about that beare it.The cheerfull Ruby then, much lou'd,That doth reuiue the spirit,Whose kinde to large extensure growneThe colour so enflamed,Is that admired mighty stoneThe Carbunckle that's named,Which from it such a flaming lightAnd radiency eiecteth,That in the very dark'st of night120The eye to it directeth.The yellow Iacynth, strengthening Sense,Of which who hath the keeping,No Thunder hurts nor Pestilence,And much prouoketh sleeping:The Chrisolite, that doth resistThirst, proued, neuer failing,The purple colored Amatist,'Gainst strength of wine prevailing;The verdant gay greene Smaragdus,130Most soueraine ouer passion:The Sardonix approu'd by vsTo master Incantation.Then that celestiall colored stoneThe Saphyre, heauenly wholly,Which worne, there wearinesse is none,And cureth melancholly:The Lazulus, whose pleasant blewWith golden vaines is graced;The Iaspis, of so various hew,140Amongst our other placed;The Onix from the Ancients brought,Of wondrous Estimation,Shall in amongst the rest be wroughtOur sacred Shryne to fashion;The Topas, we'll stick here and there,And sea-greene colored Berill,And Turkesse, which who haps to beareIs often kept from perill,To Selenite, ofCynthia'slight,150So nam'd, with her still ranging,Which as she wanes or waxeth brightIts colours so are changing.With Opalls, more then any one,We'll deck thine Altar fuller,For that of euery precious stone,It doth retaine some colour;With bunches of Pearle ParagonThine Altars vnderpropping,Whose base is the Cornelian,160Strong bleeding often stopping:With th' Agot, very oft that isCut strangely in the Quarry,As Nature ment to show in this,How she her selfe can varry:With worlds of Gems from Mines and SeasElizium well might store vs:But we content our selues with theseThat readiest lye before vs:And thus OPhœbusmost diuine170Thine Altars still we hallow,And to thy Godhead reare this ShryneOur onely wiseApollo.
A Satyre on Elizium lights,Whose vgly shape the Nimphes affrights,Yet when they heare his iust complaint,They make him an Elizian Saint.Corbilus.What; breathles Nimphs? bright Virgins let me knowWhat suddaine cause constraines ye to this haste?What haue ye seene that should affright ye so?What might it be from which ye flye so fast?I see your faces full of pallid feare,As though some perill followed on your flight;Take breath a while, and quickly let me heareInto what danger ye haue lately light.Naijs.Neuer were poore distressed Gerles so glad,10As when kinde, louedCorbiluswe saw,When our much haste vs so much weakned had,That scarcely we our wearied breathes could draw,In this next Groue vnder an aged Tree,So fell a monster lying there we found,As till this day, our eyes did neuer see,Nor euer came on the Elizian ground.Halfe man, halfe Goate, he seem'd to vs in show,His vpper parts our humane shape doth beare,But he's a very perfect Goat below,20His crooked Cambrils arm'd with hoofe and hayre.Claia.Through his leane Chops a chattering he doth makeWhich stirres his staring beastly driueld Beard,And his sharpe hornes he seem'd at vs to shake,Canst thou then blame vs though we are afeard.Corbilus.Surely it seemes some Satyre this should be,Come and goe back and guide me to the place,Be not affraid, ye are safe enough with me,Silly and harmlesse be their Siluan Race.Claia.HowCorbilus; a Satyre doe you say?30How should he ouer highParnassushit?Since to these fields there's none can finde the way,But onely those the Muses will permit.Corbilus.'Tis true; but oft, the sacred Sisters graceThe silly Satyre, by whose plainnesse, theyAre taught the worlds enormities to trace,By beastly mens abhominable way;Besyde he may be banisht his owne homeBy this base time, or be so much distrest,That he the craggy by-clift Hill hath clome40To finde out these more pleasant Fields of rest.Naijs.Yonder he sits, and seemes himselfe to bowAt our approach, what doth our presence awe him?Me thinks he seemes not halfe so vgly now,As at the first, when I andClaiasaw him.Corbilus.'Tis an old Satyre, Nimph, I now discerne,Sadly he sits, as he were sick or lame,His lookes would say, that we may easly learneHow, and from whence, he toEliziumcame.Satyre, these Fields, how cam'st thou first to finde?50What Fate first show'd thee this most happy store?When neuer any of thy Siluan kindeSet foot on the Elizian earth before?Satyre.O neuer aske, how I came to this place,What cannot strong necessity finde out?Rather bemoane my miserable case,Constrain'd to wander this wide world about:With wildSilvanusand his woody crue,In Forrests I, at liberty and free,Liu'd in such pleasure as the world ne'r knew,60Nor any rightly can conceiue but we.This iocond life we many a day enioy'd,Till this last age, those beastly men forth brought,That all those great and goodly Woods destroy'd.Whose growth their Grandsyres, with such sufferance sought,That faireFeliciawhich was but of late,Earth's Paradice, that neuer had her Peere,Stands now in that most lamentable state,That not a Siluan will inhabit there;Where in the soft and most delicious shade,70In heat of Summer we were wont to play,When the long day too short for vs we made,The slyding houres so slyly stole away;ByCynthia'slight, and on the pleasant Lawne,The wanton Fayry we were wont to chase,Which to the nimble clouen-footed Fawne,Vpon the plaine durst boldly bid the base.The sportiue Nimphes, with shouts and laughter shookeThe Hils and Valleyes in their wanton play,Waking the Ecchoes, their last words that tooke,80Till at the last, they lowder were then they.The lofty hie Wood, and the lower spring,Sheltring the Deare, in many a suddaine shower;Where Quires of Birds, oft wonted were to sing,The flaming Furnace wholly doth deuoure;Once faireFelicia, but now quite defac'd,Those Braueries gone wherein she did abound,With dainty Groues, when she was highly grac'dWith goodly Oake, Ashe, Elme, and Beeches croun'd:But that from heauen their iudgement blinded is,90In humane Reason it could neuer be,But that they might haue cleerly seene by this,Those plagues their next posterity shall see.The little Infant on the mothers LapFor want of fire shall be so sore distrest,That whilst it drawes the lanke and empty Pap,The tender lips shall freese vnto the breast;The quaking Cattle which their Warmstall want,And with bleake winters Northerne winde opprest,Their Browse and Stouer waxing thin and scant,100The hungry Groues shall with their Caryon feast.Men wanting Timber wherewith they should build,And not a Forrest inFeliciafound,Shall be enforc'd vpon the open Field,To dig them caues for houses in the ground:The Land thus rob'd, of all her rich Attyre,Naked and bare her selfe to heauen doth show,Begging from thence thatIovewould dart his fireVpon those wretches that disrob'd her so;This beastly Brood by no meanes may abide110The name of their braue Ancestors to heare,By whom their sordid slauery is descry'd,So vnlike them as though not theirs they were,Nor yet they sense, nor vnderstanding haue,Of those braue Muses that their Country song,But with false Lips ignobly doe depraueThe right and honour that to them belong;This cruell kinde thus Viper-like deuoureThat fruitfull soyle which them too fully fed;The earth doth curse the Age, and euery houre120Againe, that it these viprous monsters bred.I seeing the plagues that shortly are to comeVpon this people cleerely them forsooke:And thus am light into Elizium,To whose straite search I wholly me betooke.Naijs.Poore silly creature, come along with vs,Thou shalt be free of the Elizian fields:Be not dismaid, nor inly grieued thus,This place content in all abundance yeelds.We to the cheerefull presence will thee bring,130OfIouesdeare Daughters, where in shades they sit,Where thou shalt heare those sacred Sisters sing,Most heauenly Hymnes, the strength and life of wit:Claia.Where to the Delphian God vpon their LyresHis Priests seeme rauisht in his height of praise:Whilst he is crowning his harmonious QuiersWith circling Garlands of immortall Bayes.Corbilus.Here liue in blisse, till thou shalt see those slaues,Who thus set vertue and desert at nought:Some sacrific'd vpon their Grandsires graues,140And some like beasts in markets sold and bought.Of fooles and madmen leaue thou then the care,That haue no vnderstanding of their state:For whom high heauen doth so iust plagues prepare,That they to pitty shall conuert thy hate.And to Elizium be thou welcome then,Vntill those base Felicians thou shalt heare,By that vile nation captiued againe,That many a glorious age their captiues were.
A Satyre on Elizium lights,Whose vgly shape the Nimphes affrights,Yet when they heare his iust complaint,They make him an Elizian Saint.
Corbilus.
What; breathles Nimphs? bright Virgins let me knowWhat suddaine cause constraines ye to this haste?What haue ye seene that should affright ye so?What might it be from which ye flye so fast?I see your faces full of pallid feare,As though some perill followed on your flight;Take breath a while, and quickly let me heareInto what danger ye haue lately light.
Naijs.Neuer were poore distressed Gerles so glad,10As when kinde, louedCorbiluswe saw,When our much haste vs so much weakned had,That scarcely we our wearied breathes could draw,In this next Groue vnder an aged Tree,So fell a monster lying there we found,As till this day, our eyes did neuer see,Nor euer came on the Elizian ground.Halfe man, halfe Goate, he seem'd to vs in show,His vpper parts our humane shape doth beare,But he's a very perfect Goat below,20His crooked Cambrils arm'd with hoofe and hayre.
Claia.Through his leane Chops a chattering he doth makeWhich stirres his staring beastly driueld Beard,And his sharpe hornes he seem'd at vs to shake,Canst thou then blame vs though we are afeard.
Corbilus.Surely it seemes some Satyre this should be,Come and goe back and guide me to the place,Be not affraid, ye are safe enough with me,Silly and harmlesse be their Siluan Race.
Claia.HowCorbilus; a Satyre doe you say?30How should he ouer highParnassushit?Since to these fields there's none can finde the way,But onely those the Muses will permit.
Corbilus.'Tis true; but oft, the sacred Sisters graceThe silly Satyre, by whose plainnesse, theyAre taught the worlds enormities to trace,By beastly mens abhominable way;Besyde he may be banisht his owne homeBy this base time, or be so much distrest,That he the craggy by-clift Hill hath clome40To finde out these more pleasant Fields of rest.
Naijs.Yonder he sits, and seemes himselfe to bowAt our approach, what doth our presence awe him?Me thinks he seemes not halfe so vgly now,As at the first, when I andClaiasaw him.
Corbilus.'Tis an old Satyre, Nimph, I now discerne,Sadly he sits, as he were sick or lame,His lookes would say, that we may easly learneHow, and from whence, he toEliziumcame.Satyre, these Fields, how cam'st thou first to finde?50What Fate first show'd thee this most happy store?When neuer any of thy Siluan kindeSet foot on the Elizian earth before?
Satyre.O neuer aske, how I came to this place,What cannot strong necessity finde out?Rather bemoane my miserable case,Constrain'd to wander this wide world about:With wildSilvanusand his woody crue,In Forrests I, at liberty and free,Liu'd in such pleasure as the world ne'r knew,60Nor any rightly can conceiue but we.This iocond life we many a day enioy'd,Till this last age, those beastly men forth brought,That all those great and goodly Woods destroy'd.Whose growth their Grandsyres, with such sufferance sought,That faireFeliciawhich was but of late,Earth's Paradice, that neuer had her Peere,Stands now in that most lamentable state,That not a Siluan will inhabit there;Where in the soft and most delicious shade,70In heat of Summer we were wont to play,When the long day too short for vs we made,The slyding houres so slyly stole away;ByCynthia'slight, and on the pleasant Lawne,The wanton Fayry we were wont to chase,Which to the nimble clouen-footed Fawne,Vpon the plaine durst boldly bid the base.The sportiue Nimphes, with shouts and laughter shookeThe Hils and Valleyes in their wanton play,Waking the Ecchoes, their last words that tooke,80Till at the last, they lowder were then they.The lofty hie Wood, and the lower spring,Sheltring the Deare, in many a suddaine shower;Where Quires of Birds, oft wonted were to sing,The flaming Furnace wholly doth deuoure;Once faireFelicia, but now quite defac'd,Those Braueries gone wherein she did abound,With dainty Groues, when she was highly grac'dWith goodly Oake, Ashe, Elme, and Beeches croun'd:But that from heauen their iudgement blinded is,90In humane Reason it could neuer be,But that they might haue cleerly seene by this,Those plagues their next posterity shall see.The little Infant on the mothers LapFor want of fire shall be so sore distrest,That whilst it drawes the lanke and empty Pap,The tender lips shall freese vnto the breast;The quaking Cattle which their Warmstall want,And with bleake winters Northerne winde opprest,Their Browse and Stouer waxing thin and scant,100The hungry Groues shall with their Caryon feast.Men wanting Timber wherewith they should build,And not a Forrest inFeliciafound,Shall be enforc'd vpon the open Field,To dig them caues for houses in the ground:The Land thus rob'd, of all her rich Attyre,Naked and bare her selfe to heauen doth show,Begging from thence thatIovewould dart his fireVpon those wretches that disrob'd her so;This beastly Brood by no meanes may abide110The name of their braue Ancestors to heare,By whom their sordid slauery is descry'd,So vnlike them as though not theirs they were,Nor yet they sense, nor vnderstanding haue,Of those braue Muses that their Country song,But with false Lips ignobly doe depraueThe right and honour that to them belong;This cruell kinde thus Viper-like deuoureThat fruitfull soyle which them too fully fed;The earth doth curse the Age, and euery houre120Againe, that it these viprous monsters bred.I seeing the plagues that shortly are to comeVpon this people cleerely them forsooke:And thus am light into Elizium,To whose straite search I wholly me betooke.
Naijs.Poore silly creature, come along with vs,Thou shalt be free of the Elizian fields:Be not dismaid, nor inly grieued thus,This place content in all abundance yeelds.We to the cheerefull presence will thee bring,130OfIouesdeare Daughters, where in shades they sit,Where thou shalt heare those sacred Sisters sing,Most heauenly Hymnes, the strength and life of wit:
Claia.Where to the Delphian God vpon their LyresHis Priests seeme rauisht in his height of praise:Whilst he is crowning his harmonious QuiersWith circling Garlands of immortall Bayes.
Corbilus.Here liue in blisse, till thou shalt see those slaues,Who thus set vertue and desert at nought:Some sacrific'd vpon their Grandsires graues,140And some like beasts in markets sold and bought.Of fooles and madmen leaue thou then the care,That haue no vnderstanding of their state:For whom high heauen doth so iust plagues prepare,That they to pitty shall conuert thy hate.And to Elizium be thou welcome then,Vntill those base Felicians thou shalt heare,By that vile nation captiued againe,That many a glorious age their captiues were.
Decorative
The Gods delight, the heauens hie spectacle,Earths greatest glory, worlds rarest miracle.Fortunes fay'rst mistresse, vertues surest guide,Loues Gouernesse, and natures chiefest pride.Delights owne darling, honours cheefe defence,Chastities choyce, and wisdomes quintessence.Conceipts sole Riches, thoughts only treasure,Desires true hope, Ioyes sweetest pleasure.Mercies due merite, valeurs iust reward,10Times fayrest fruite, fames strongest guarde.Yea she alone, next that eternall he,The expresse Image of eternitie.
The Gods delight, the heauens hie spectacle,Earths greatest glory, worlds rarest miracle.
Fortunes fay'rst mistresse, vertues surest guide,Loues Gouernesse, and natures chiefest pride.
Delights owne darling, honours cheefe defence,Chastities choyce, and wisdomes quintessence.
Conceipts sole Riches, thoughts only treasure,Desires true hope, Ioyes sweetest pleasure.
Mercies due merite, valeurs iust reward,10Times fayrest fruite, fames strongest guarde.
Yea she alone, next that eternall he,The expresse Image of eternitie.
Tell me fayre flocke, (if so you can conceaue)The sodaine cause of my night-sunnes eclipse,If this be wrought me my light to bereaue,By Magick spels, from some inchanting lipsOr vglySaturnefrom his combust sent,This fatall presage of deaths dreryment.Oh cleerest day-starre, honored of mine eyes,Yet sdaynst mine eyes should gaze vpon thy light,Bright morning sunne, who with thy sweet arise,10Expell'st the clouds of my harts lowring night,Goddes reiecting sweetest sacrifice,Of mine eyes teares ay offered to thine eyes.May purest heauens scorne my soules pure desires?Or holy shrines hate Pilgrims orizons?May sacred temples gaynsay sacred prayers?Or Saints refuse the poores deuotions?Then Orphane thoughts with sorrow be you waind,When loues Religion shalbe thus prophayn'd.Yet needes the earth must droope with visage sad,20When siluer dewes been turn'd to bitter stormes,The CheerfulWelkin, once in sables clad,Her frownes foretell poore humaine creatures harmes.And yet for all to make amends for this,The clouds sheed teares, and weepen at my misse.
Tell me fayre flocke, (if so you can conceaue)The sodaine cause of my night-sunnes eclipse,If this be wrought me my light to bereaue,By Magick spels, from some inchanting lipsOr vglySaturnefrom his combust sent,This fatall presage of deaths dreryment.
Oh cleerest day-starre, honored of mine eyes,Yet sdaynst mine eyes should gaze vpon thy light,Bright morning sunne, who with thy sweet arise,10Expell'st the clouds of my harts lowring night,Goddes reiecting sweetest sacrifice,Of mine eyes teares ay offered to thine eyes.
May purest heauens scorne my soules pure desires?Or holy shrines hate Pilgrims orizons?May sacred temples gaynsay sacred prayers?Or Saints refuse the poores deuotions?Then Orphane thoughts with sorrow be you waind,When loues Religion shalbe thus prophayn'd.
Yet needes the earth must droope with visage sad,20When siluer dewes been turn'd to bitter stormes,The CheerfulWelkin, once in sables clad,Her frownes foretell poore humaine creatures harmes.And yet for all to make amends for this,The clouds sheed teares, and weepen at my misse.
O thou fayre siluer Thames: O cleerest chrystall flood,Betaalone the Phenix is, of all thy watery brood,The Queene of Virgins onely she:And thou the Queene of floods shalt be:Let all thy Nymphes be ioyfull then to see this happy day,ThyBetanow alone shalbe the subiect of my laye.With daintie and delightsome straines of sweetest virelayes:Come louely shepheards sit we down and chant ourBetasprayse:And let vs sing so rare a verse,10OurBetasprayses to rehearse,That little Birds shall silent be, to heare poore shepheards sing,And riuers backward bend their course, and flow vnto the spring.Range all thy swannes faire Thames together on a rancke,And place them duely one by one, vpon thy stately banck,Then set together all agood,Recording to the siluer flood,And craue the tunefull Nightingale to helpe you with her lay,The Osel and the Throstlecocke, chiefe musicke of our maye.O! see what troups of Nimphs been sporting on the strands,20And they been blessed Nimphs of peace, with Oliues in their hands.How meryly the Muses sing,That all the flowry Medowes ring,AndBetasits vpon the banck, in purple and in pall,And she the Queene of Muses is, and weares the Corinall.Trim vp her Golden tresses withApollossacred tree,O happy sight vnto all those that loue and honor thee,The Blessed Angels haue prepar'd,A glorious Crowne for thy reward,Not such a golden Crowne as haughtyCæsarweares,30But such a glittering starry Crowne asAriadnebeares.Make her a goodly Chapilet of azur'd Colombine,And wreath about her Coronet with sweetest Eglentine:Bedeck ourBetaall with Lillies,And the dayntie Daffadillies,With Roses damask, white, and red, and fairest flower delice,With Cowslips of Jerusalem, and cloues of Paradice.O thou fayre torch of heauen, the days most dearest light,And thou bright shyningCinthya, the glory of the night:You starres the eyes of heauen,40And thou the glyding leuen,And thou O gorgeousIriswith all strange Colours dyd,When she streams foorth her rayes, then dasht is all your pride.See how the day stands still, admiring of her face,And time loe stretcheth foorth her armes, thyBetato imbrace,The Syrens sing sweete layes,The Trytons sound her prayse,Goe passe on Thames and hie thee fast vnto the Ocean sea,And let thy billowes there proclaime thyBetasholy-day.And water thou the blessed roote of that greene Oliue tree,50With whose sweete shadow, al thy bancks with peace preserued be,Lawrell for Poets and Conquerours,And mirtle for Loues Paramours:That fame may be thy fruit, the boughes preseru'd by peace,And let the mournful Cipres die, now stormes and tempest cease.Wee'l straw the shore with pearle whereBetawalks alone,And we wil paue her princely Bower with richest Indian stone,Perfume the ayre and make it sweete,For such a Goddesse it is meete,For if her eyes for purity contend with Titans light,60No maruaile then although they so doe dazell humaine sight.Sound out your trumpets then, fromLondon'sstately towres,To beate the stormie windes a back and calme the raging showres,Set too the Cornet and the flute,The Orpharyon and the Lute,And tune the Taber and the Pipe, to the sweet violons,And moue the thunder in the ayre, with lowdest Clarions.Betalong may thine Altars smoke, with yeerely sacrifice,And long thy sacred Temples may their Saboths solemnize,Thy shepheards watch by day and night,70Thy Mayds attend the holy light,And thy large empyre stretch her armes from east vnto the west,And thou vnder thy feet mayst tread, that foule seuen-headed beast.
O thou fayre siluer Thames: O cleerest chrystall flood,Betaalone the Phenix is, of all thy watery brood,The Queene of Virgins onely she:And thou the Queene of floods shalt be:Let all thy Nymphes be ioyfull then to see this happy day,ThyBetanow alone shalbe the subiect of my laye.
With daintie and delightsome straines of sweetest virelayes:Come louely shepheards sit we down and chant ourBetasprayse:And let vs sing so rare a verse,10OurBetasprayses to rehearse,That little Birds shall silent be, to heare poore shepheards sing,And riuers backward bend their course, and flow vnto the spring.
Range all thy swannes faire Thames together on a rancke,And place them duely one by one, vpon thy stately banck,Then set together all agood,Recording to the siluer flood,And craue the tunefull Nightingale to helpe you with her lay,The Osel and the Throstlecocke, chiefe musicke of our maye.
O! see what troups of Nimphs been sporting on the strands,20And they been blessed Nimphs of peace, with Oliues in their hands.How meryly the Muses sing,That all the flowry Medowes ring,AndBetasits vpon the banck, in purple and in pall,And she the Queene of Muses is, and weares the Corinall.
Trim vp her Golden tresses withApollossacred tree,O happy sight vnto all those that loue and honor thee,The Blessed Angels haue prepar'd,A glorious Crowne for thy reward,Not such a golden Crowne as haughtyCæsarweares,30But such a glittering starry Crowne asAriadnebeares.
Make her a goodly Chapilet of azur'd Colombine,And wreath about her Coronet with sweetest Eglentine:Bedeck ourBetaall with Lillies,And the dayntie Daffadillies,With Roses damask, white, and red, and fairest flower delice,With Cowslips of Jerusalem, and cloues of Paradice.
O thou fayre torch of heauen, the days most dearest light,And thou bright shyningCinthya, the glory of the night:You starres the eyes of heauen,40And thou the glyding leuen,And thou O gorgeousIriswith all strange Colours dyd,When she streams foorth her rayes, then dasht is all your pride.
See how the day stands still, admiring of her face,And time loe stretcheth foorth her armes, thyBetato imbrace,The Syrens sing sweete layes,The Trytons sound her prayse,Goe passe on Thames and hie thee fast vnto the Ocean sea,And let thy billowes there proclaime thyBetasholy-day.
And water thou the blessed roote of that greene Oliue tree,50With whose sweete shadow, al thy bancks with peace preserued be,Lawrell for Poets and Conquerours,And mirtle for Loues Paramours:That fame may be thy fruit, the boughes preseru'd by peace,And let the mournful Cipres die, now stormes and tempest cease.
Wee'l straw the shore with pearle whereBetawalks alone,And we wil paue her princely Bower with richest Indian stone,Perfume the ayre and make it sweete,For such a Goddesse it is meete,For if her eyes for purity contend with Titans light,60No maruaile then although they so doe dazell humaine sight.
Sound out your trumpets then, fromLondon'sstately towres,To beate the stormie windes a back and calme the raging showres,Set too the Cornet and the flute,The Orpharyon and the Lute,And tune the Taber and the Pipe, to the sweet violons,And moue the thunder in the ayre, with lowdest Clarions.
Betalong may thine Altars smoke, with yeerely sacrifice,And long thy sacred Temples may their Saboths solemnize,Thy shepheards watch by day and night,70Thy Mayds attend the holy light,And thy large empyre stretch her armes from east vnto the west,And thou vnder thy feet mayst tread, that foule seuen-headed beast.