Let all the virgins therefore well await; And ye, fresh boys, that tend upon her groom, Prepare yourselves, for he is coming straight. Set all your things in seemly good array, Fit for so joyful day: The joyfull'st day that ever sun did see. Fair sun! show forth thy favorable ray, And let thy lifeful heat not fervent be, O fairest Phoebus! father of the Muse! Do not thy servant's simple boon refuse, But let this day, let this one day be mine; Let all the rest be thine. Then I thy sovereign praises loud will sing, That all the woods shall answer, and their echo ring. Lo! where she comes along with portly pace, Like Phoebe, from her chamber of the east, Arising forth to run her mighty race, Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best. So well it her beseems, that ye would ween Some angel she had been. Her long loose yellow locks; like golden wire Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween, Do like a golden mantle her attire; And being crowned with a garland green, Seem like some maiden queen. But blush to hear her praises sung so loud, So far from being proud. Nathless do ye still loud her praises sing, That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring. Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did Regard of Honor, and mild Modesty; His life was nigh unto death's door There Virtue reigns as queen in royal throne, And giveth laws alone, The which the base affections do obey, And yield their services unto her will: Ne thought of things uncomely ever may Thereto approach to tempt her mind to ill. Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures, And unrevealed pleasures, Then would ye wonder and her praises sing, That all the woods would answer, and your echo ring. And yplaced, threadbare coat and cobbled shoes he ware; Ne scarce good morsel all his life did taste; But both from back and belly still did spare, To fill his bags, and riches to compare; Yet child nor kinsman living had he none To leave them to; but thorough daily care To get, and nightly fear to lose, his own, He led a wretched life unto himself unknown. Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him poor, from her knight divorced in despair, her due loves derived to that vile witch's share. Who had enough, yet wished ever-Yet, she most faithful lady all this while, Far from all people's preace, as in Forsaken, woful, solitary maid, In wilderness and wasteful deserts exile, strayed, To seek her knight; who, subtily Through that late vision, which th’ betrayed Enchanter wrought, Had her abandoned. She of nought afraid, Through woods and wasteness wide him daily sought; Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought. |