78. 79. And drink mine everlasting fill My soul will be a-dry before; EVEN The Conclusion VEN such is Time, that takes in trust But from this earth, this grave, this dust, EDMUND SPENSER Whilst it is prime 1552-1599 FRESH Spring, the herald of loves mighty king, In whose cote-armour richly are displayd Goe to my love, where she is carelesse layd, Make hast, therefore, sweet love, whilest it is prime; 79. make] mate. 80. A Ditty In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds SEE EE where she sits upon the grassie greene, Yclad in Scarlot, like a mayden Queene, Upon her head a Cremosin coronet And primroses greene, Embellish the sweete Violet. Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace, The Redde rose medled with the White yfere, Her modest eye, Her Majestie, Where have you seene the like but there? I see Calliope speede her to the place, And after her the other Muses trace Bene they not Bay braunches which they do beare, So sweetely they play, And sing all the way, That it a heaven is to heare. medled] mixed. yfere] together. Lo, how finely the Graces can it foote They dauncen deffly, and singen soote, Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce even? She shal be a Grace, To fyll the fourth place, And reigne with the rest in heaven. Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine, Bring Coronations, and Sops-in-wine Worne of Paramoures: Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies, And the Chevisaunce, Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice. Now ryse up, Elisa, deckèd as thou art And now ye daintie Damsells may depart I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe: And if you come hether When Damsines I gether, I will part them all you among. 81. Prothalamion 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; Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay Like empty shaddowes, did afflict my brayne,) Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes; And all the meades adornd with daintie gemmes 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, And each one had a little wicker basket, In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket, The tender stalkes on hye. Of every sort, which in that Meadow grew, The little Dazie, that at evening closes, 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 The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew, Nor Jove himselfe, when he a Swan would be, Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he, So purely white they were, That even the gentle streame, the which them bare, That shone as heavens light, Against their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill, As they came floating on the Christal Flood; Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre, |