The Shorter Poems

by Edmund Spenser

  175

  Through heauenly 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 vnsound:

  180

  And vnderneath his feet are to be found

  Thunder, and lightning, and tempestuous fyre,

  The instruments of his auenging yre.

  There in his bosome Sapience doth sit,

  The soueraine dearling of the Deity,

  185

  Clad like a Queene in royall robes, most fit

  For so great powre and peerelesse maiesty.

  And all with gemmes and iewels gorgeously

  Adornd, that brighter then the starres appeare,

  And make her natiue brightnes seem more cleare.

  190

  And on her head a crowne of purest gold

  Is set, in signe of highest soueraignty,

  And in her hand a scepter she doth hold,

  With which she rules the house of God on hy,

  And menageth the euer-mouing sky,

  195

  And in the same these lower creatures all,

  Subiected to her powre imperiall.

  Both heauen and earth obey vnto her will,

  And all the creatures which they both containe:

  For of her fulnesse which the world doth fill,

  200

  They all partake, and do in state remaine,

  As their great Maker did at first ordaine,

  Through obseruation of her high beheast,

  By which they first were made, and still increast.

  The fairenesse of her face no tongue can tell,

  205

  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,

  210

  Ne can on earth compared be to ought.

  Ne could that Painter (had he liued yet)

  Which pictured Venus with so curious quill,

  That all posteritie admyred it,

  Haue purtrayd this, for all his maistring skill;

  215

  Ne she her selfe, had she remained still,

  And were as faire, as fabling wits do fayne,

  Could once come neare this beauty souerayne.

  But had those wits the wonders of their dayes,

  Or that sweete Teian Poet which did spend

  220

  His plenteous vaine in setting forth her prayse,

  Seene but a glims of this, which I pretend,

  How wondrously would he her face commend,

  Aboue that Idole of his fayning thought,

  That all the world shold with his rimes be fraught?

  225

  How then dare I, the nouice of his Art,

  Presume to picture so diuine a wight,

  Or hope t’expresse her least perfections part,

  Whose beautie filles the heauens with her light,

  And darkes the earth with shadow of her sight?

  230

  Ah gentle Muse thou art too weake and faint,

  The pourtraict of so heauenly hew to paint.

  Let Angels which her goodly face behold

  And see at will, her soueraigne praises sing,

  And those most sacred mysteries vnfold,

  235

  Of that faire loue of mightie heauens king.

  Enough is me t’admyre so heauenly thing,

  And being thus with her huge loue possest,

  In th’only wonder of her selfe to rest.

  But who so may, thrise happie man him hold,

  240

  Of all on earth, whom God so much doth grace,

  And lets his owne Beloued to behold:

  For in the view of her celestiall face,

  All ioy, all blisse, all happinesse haue place,

  Ne ought on earth can want vnto the wight,

  245

  Who of her selfe can win the wishfull sight.

  For she out of her secret threasury,

  Plentie of riches forth on him will powre,

  Euen heauenly riches, which there hidden ly

  Within the closet of her chastest bowre,

  250

  Th’eternall portion of her precious dowre,

  Which mighty God hath giuen to her free,

  And to all those which thereof worthy bee.

  None thereof worthy be, but those whom shee

  Vouchsafeth to her presence to receaue,

  255

  And letteth them her louely face to see,

  Wherof such wondrous pleasures they conceaue,

  And sweete contentment, that it doth bereaue

  Their soule of sense, through infinite delight,

  And them transport from flesh into the spright.

  260

  In which they see such admirable things,

  As carries them into an extasy,

  And heare such heauenly notes, and carolings,

  Of Gods high praise, that filles the brasen sky,

  And feele such ioy and pleasure inwardly,

  265

  That maketh them all worldly cares forget,

  And onely thinke on that before them set.

  Ne from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense,

  Or idle thought of earthly things remaine,

  But all that earst seemd sweet, seemes now offense,

  270

  And all that pleased earst, now seemes to paine.

  Their ioy, their comfort, their desire, their gaine,

  Is fixed all on that which now they see,

  All other sights but fayned shadowes bee.

  And that faire lampe, which vseth to enflame

  275

  The hearts of men with selfe consuming fyre,

  Thenceforth seemes fowle, and full of sinfull blame;

  And all that pompe, to which proud minds aspyre

  By name of honor, and so much desyre,

  Seemes to them basenesse, and all riches drosse,

  280

  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,

  285

  Which they haue written in their inward ey;

  On which they feed, and in their fastened mynd

  All happie ioy and full contentment fynd.

  Ah then my hungry soule, which long hast fed

  On idle fancies of thy foolish thought,

  290

  And with false beauties flattring bait misled,

  Hast after vaine deceiptfull shadowes sought,

  Which all are fled, and now haue left thee nought,

  But late repentance through thy follies prief;

  Ah ceasse to gaze on matter of thy grief.

  295

  And looke at last vp to that soueraine light,

  From whose pure beams al perfect beauty springs,

  That kindleth loue in euery godly spright,

  Euen the loue of God, which loathing brings

  Of this vile world, and these gay seeming things;

  300

  With whose sweete pleasures being so possest,

  Thy straying thoughts henceforth for euer rest.

  Prothalamion.

  1

  Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre,

  Sweete breathing Zephyrus did softly play

  A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay

  Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre:

  5

  When I whom sullein care,

  Through disconten
t of my long fruitlesse stay

  In Princes Court, and expectation vayne

  Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away,

  Like empty shaddowes, did aflict my brayne,

  10

  Walkt forth to ease my payne

  Along the shoare of siluer streaming Themmes,

  Whose rutty Bancke, the which his Riuer hemmes,

  Was paynted all with variable flowers,

  And all the meades adornd with daintie gemmes,

  15

  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.

  2

  There, in a Meadow, by the Riuers side,

  20

  A Flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,

  All louely Daughters of the Flood thereby,

  With goodly greenish locks all loose vntyde,

  As each had bene a Bryde,

  And each one had a little wicker basket,

  25

  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 euery sort, which in that Meadow grew,

  30

  They gathered some; the Violet pallid blew,

  The little Dazie, that at euening closes,

  The virgin Lillie, and the Primrose trew,

  With store of vermeil Roses,

  To decke their Bridegromes posies,

  35

  Against the Brydale day, which was not long:

  Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.

  3

  With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe,

  Come softly swimming downe along the Lee;

  Two fairer Birds I yet did neuer see:

  40

  The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew,

  Did neuer whiter shew,

  Nor Joue himselfe when he a Swan would be

  For loue of Leda, whiter did appeare:

  Yet Leda was they say as white as he,

  45

  Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare;

  So purely white they were,

  That euen the gentle streame, the which them bare

  Seem’d foule to them, and bad his billowes spare

  To wet their silken feathers, least they might

  50

  Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,

  And marre their beauties bright,

  That shone as heauens light,

  Against their Brydale day, which was not long:

  Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.

  4

  55

  Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill,

  Ran all in haste, to see that siluer brood,

  As they came floating on the Christal Flood,

  Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed still,

  Their wondring eyes to fill,

  60

  Them seem’d they neuer saw a sight so fayre,

  Of Fowles so louely, that they sure did deeme

  Them heauenly borne, or to be that same payre

  Which through the Skie draw Venus siluer Teeme,

  For sure they did not seeme

  65

  To be begot of any earthly Seede,

  But rather Angels or of Angels breede:

  Yet were they bred of Somers-heat they say,

  In sweetest Season, when each Flower and weede

  The earth did fresh aray,

  70

  So fresh they seem’d as day,

  Euen as their Brydale day, which was not long:

  Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.

  5

  Then forth they all out of their baskets drew,

  Great store of Flowers, the honour of the field,

  75

  That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,

  All which vpon those goodly Birds they threw,

  And all the Waues did strew,

  That like old Peneus Waters they did seeme,

  When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore

  80

  Scattred with Flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,

  That they appeare through Lillies plenteous store,

  Like a Brydes Chamber flore:

  Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound,

  Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found,

  85

  The which presenting all in trim Array,

  Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd,

  Whil’st one did sing this Lay,

  Prepar’d against that Day,

  Against their Brydale day, which was not long:

  90

  Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.

  6

  Ye gentle Birdes, the worlds faire ornament,

  And heauens glorie, whom this happie hower

  Doth leade vnto your louers blisfull bower,

  Ioy may you haue and gentle hearts content

  95

  Of your loues couplement:

  And let faire Venus, that is Queene of loue,

  With her heart-quelling Sonne vpon you smile,

  Whose smile they say, hath vertue to remoue

  All Loues dislike, and friendships faultie guile

  100

  For euer to assoile.

  Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord,

  And blessed Plentie wait vpon your bord,

  And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,

  That fruitfull issue may to you afford,

  105

  Which may your foes confound,

  And make your ioyes redound,

  Vpon your Brydale day, which is not long:

  Sweete Themmes run softlie, till I end my Song.

  7

  So ended she; and all the rest around

  110

  To her redoubled that her vndersong,

  Which said, their bridale daye should not be long.

  And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground,

  Their accents did resound.

  So forth those ioyous Birdes did passe along,

  115

  Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low,

  As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,

  Yeat did by signes his glad affection show,

  Making his streame run slow.

  And all the foule which in his flood did dwell

  120

  Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell

  The rest, so far, as Cynthia doth shend

  The lesser starres. So they enranged well,

  Did on those two attend,

  And their best seruice lend,

  125

  Against their wedding day, which was not long:

  Sweete Themmes run softly, till I end my song.

  8

  At length they all to mery London came,