But for this time it ill ordained was,
To chose the longest day in all the yeare,
And shortest night, when longest fitter weare:
Yet never day so long, but late would passe.
Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,
And bonefiers make all day;

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? How slowly do the houres theyr numbers

spend?

277

How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?
Hast thee, O fayrest Planet, to thy home,
Within the Westerne fome:

Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of rest.
Long though it be, at last I see it gloome,
And the bright evening-star with golden creast
Appeare out of the East.

Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of love!
That all the host of heaven in rankes doost

lead,

And guydest lovers through the nights sad

dread,

How chearefully thou lookest from above, And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light,

As joying in the sight

Of these glad many, which for joy doe sing,
That all the woods them answer, and their

echo ring!

295

Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights forepast;

Enough it is that all the day was youres:

Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast, Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures. The night is come, now soon her disaray, And in her bed her lay;

Lay her in lillies and in violets,

And silken courteins over her display,
And odourd sheetes, and Arras coverlets.
Behold how goodly my faire love does ly,
In proud humility!

Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took
In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,

Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was,
With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.
Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon,

And leave my love alone,

And leave likewise your former lay to sing: The woods no more shall answere, nor your echo ring.

Now welcome, night! thou night so long

expected,

314

That long daies labour doest at last defray, And all my cares, which cruell Love collected, Hast sumd in one, and cancelled for aye: Spread thy broad wing over my love and me, That no man may us see;

And in thy sable mantle us enwrap,

From feare of perrill and foule horror free..
Let no false treason seeke us to entrap,

Nor any dread disquiet once annoy
The safety of our joy;

But let the night be calme, and quietsome,
Without tempestuous storms or sad afray:
Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena lay,
When he begot the great Tirynthian groome :
Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie
And begot Majesty.

And let the mayds and yong men cease to
sing;

Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr

eccho ring.

333

Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares,
Be heard all night within, nor yet without:
Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares,
Breake gentle sleepe with misconceivèd dout.
Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadfull sights,
Make sudden sad affrights;

Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes,

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,

Fray us with things that be not:

Let not the shriech Oule nor the Storke be

heard,

Nor the night Raven, that still deadly yels;
Nor damned ghosts, cald up with mighty spels,
Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard:

Ne let th' unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still

croking

Make us to wish theyr choking.

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,
That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,
And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe,
May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant
playne;

The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves,
Like divers-fethered doves,

Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,
And in the secret darke, that none reproves,
Their prety stealthes shal worke, and snares
shal spread

To filch away sweet snatches of delight,
Conceald through covert night.

352

Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will!
For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes,
Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes,
Then what ye do, albe it good or ill.
All night therefore attend your merry play,
For it will soone be day:

Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing;
Ne will the woods now answer, nor your

Eccho ring.

371

Who is the same, which at my window peepes? Or whose is that faire face that shines so

bright?

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,

And for a fleece of wooll, which privily

The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought,
His pleasures with thee wrought.
Therefore to us be favorable now;

And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge,
And generation goodly dost enlarge,

Encline thy will t' effect our wishfull vow,

And the chast wombe informe with timely seed,

That may our comfort breed:

Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing; Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho

ring.

389

And thou, great Juno! which with awful

might

The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize;
And the religion of the faith first plight
With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize;
And eeke for comfort often called art
Of women in their smart;

Eternally bind thou this lovely band,
And all thy blessings unto us impart.

And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand
The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine,
Without blemish or staine;