Edmund Spenser, Shorter Poems

Edmund Spenser, The Yale Edition of the Shorter Poems of Edmund Spenser, Eds. Oram, Bjorvand, Bond, Cain, Dunlop, and Schell, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1989.

But to organize a series of eclogues (as poems in a pastoral series are called) by a calendar design and to subordinate his speakers to the exigencies of the seasons is Spenser’s innovation, with the result a structurally more intricate yet more unified pastoral sequence than Virgil’s or any other previous poet’s. (3)

Pastoral is essentially literature of stasis. When something happens in pastoral it is verbal: a debate, an improvised song. When action impinges on pastoral, it is either recounted (as in [3] the fable of the oak and the briar in Februarie) or foretold (as with Colin’s change of role in October). The only acts that take place in the Calender’s present are Colin’s pipe-breaking in Januarye and his death in December. (4)

E. K.’s arguments and glosses are a different matter indeed. These should aim to assist the reader, but often seem to confuse, mislead, or misinform. Some arguments, as in Februarie and Julye, take up sides in debates which the poems themselves are at pains to keep unresolved, while others summarize with fair accuracy. E. K.’s glosses, however, raise unhelpful assistance to a new power. … One reason for the physical phenomenon of the gloss per se, irrespective of its character, was to make the eclogues of the New Poet look like those of the ancient and some Renaissance pastoralists: (6)

But none of the previous annotators glosses so obtusely as does E. K.—which necessarily raises the question of his identity. The old proposal that E. K. is one Edwarde Kirke, a Cambridge contemporary of Spenser, seems to go nowhere through lack of information. The suggestion that E. K. is a Spenser persona has at least two bits of evidence in its favor: (6)

In any case, the glossed Calender seems less curious when put in the context of Renaissance books like More’s Utopia and Erasmus’s Praise of Folly, playfully ironic exercises in the tradition of Lucian which force the reader to adapt and maintain a vigilantly defensive querying posture toward the text. (9)

…framing his words: the which of many thinges which in him be straunge, I know will seeme the straungest, the words them selves being so auncient, the knitting of them so short and intricate, and the whole Periode and compasse of speache so delightsome for the roundnesse, and so grave for the straungenesse. (Epistle, [by E. K.] The Shepheardes Calender, 14)

In whom whenas this our Poet hath bene much traveiled and thoroughly redd, how could it be, (as that worthy Oratour sayde) but that walking in the sonne although for other cause he walked, yet needes he mought be sunburnt; and having the sound of those auncient Poetes still ringing in his eares, he mought needes in singing hit out some of theyr tunes. (Epistle, 14)

Like to the dogge in the maunger, that him selfe can eate no hay, and yet barketh at the hungry bullock, that so faine would feede: whose currish kind though cannot be kept from barking, yet I conne them thanke that they refrain from byting. (Epistle, 17)

…as young birdes, that be newly crept out of the nest, by little first to prove theyr tender wynges, before they make a greater flight. (Epistle, 18)

These my present paynes if to any they be pleasurable or profitable, be you judge, mine own good Maister Harvey, to whom I have both in respect of your worthinesse generally, and otherwise upon some particular and special considerations voyed this my labour, (Epistle, 20)

Ye Gods of love, that pitie lovers payne,
(If any gods the paine of lovers pitie:) (Janyarye, 30)

And now is come thy winters stormy state, (30)

Shepheards devise she hateth as the snake (32)

Whwerefore my pype, albee rude Pan thou please,
Yet for thou pleasest not, where most I would:
And thou unlucky Muse, that wontst to ease
My musing mynd, yet canst not, when thou should:
Both pype and Muse, shall sore the while abye.
[syntax. Also, the while abye: ambiguous: pay for the time or pay for a while.] (32)

[Note on the name Hobbinol, line 59.] For who that hath red Plato his dialogue called Alcybiades, Xenophon and Maximus Tyrius of Socrates opinions, may easily perceive, that such love is muche to be allowed and liked of, specially so meant, as Socrates used it: who sayth, that in deede he loved Alcybiades extremely, yet not Alcybiades person, but hys soule, which is Alcybiades owne selfe. And so is paederastice much to be praeferred before gynerastice, that is the love whiche enflameth men with lust toward woman kind. But yet let no man thinke, that herein I stand with Lucian or hys devilish disciple Unico Aretino, in defence of execrable and horrible sinnes of forbidden and unlawful fleshlinesse. Whose abominable errour is fully confuted of Perionius, and others. (34)

Must not the world wend is his commun course
From good to badd, and from badde to worse, (Februarie, 40)

And stoopegallaunt Age the host of Greevaunce.
[stoopegallaunt: the humbles the gallant; sometimes a low door. Greevaunce: grief.] (43)

Ah my soveraigne, Lord of creatures all,
Thou placer of plants both humble and tall,
Was not I planted of thine owne hand,
To be the primrose of all thy land, (Februarie, 45)

Thenots Embleme.
Iddio perche e vecchio,
Fa suoi al suo essempio.

Cuddies Embleme.
Niuno vecchio,
Spaventa Iddio.

(Iddio: “Because God is an old man, take him for example” Ital. ; Niuno: “No old man fears God” Ital.)

Embleme.
This embleme is spoken Thenot, as a moral of his former tale: namelye, that God, which is himselfe most aged, being before al ages, and without beginninge, maketh those, whom he loveth like to himselfe, in heaping yeares unto theyre dayes, and blessing them with longe lyfe. For the blessing of age is not given to all, but unto those, whome God will so blesse: and albeit that many evil men reache unto such fulnesse of yeares, and some also wexe olde in myseries and thraldome, yet therefore is not age ever the lesse blessing. For even to such evill men such number of yeares is added, that they may in their last dayes repent, and come to their first home. So the old man checketh the rashheaded boy, for desysing his gray and frostye heares. Whom Cuddye doth counterbuff with a byting and bitter proverbe, spoken indeede at the first in contempt of old age generally. For it was an old opinion, and yet is continued in some mens conceipt, that men of yeares have no feare of god at al, or not so much as younger folke. For that being ripened with long experience, and having passed many bitter brunts and blastes of vengeaunce, they dread no stormes of Fortune, nor wrathe of Gods, nor daunger of menne, as being eyther by longe and ripe wisedome armed against all mischaunces and adversitie, or with much trouble hardened against all troublesome tydes: lyke unto the Ape, of which is sayd in Aesops fables, that oftentimes meeting the Lyon, he was at first sore aghst and dismayed at the grimness and austeritie of hys countenance, but at last being acquainted with is lookes, he was so furre from fearing him, that he would familiarly gybe and jest with him: Suche longe experience breedeth in some men securitie. Although it please Erasmus a great clerke and good old father, more fatherly and favourablye to construe it is his Adages for his own behoofe, That by the proverbe Nemo Senex metuit Jovem, is not meant, that old men have no feare of God at al, but that they be furre from superstition and Idolatrous regards of false Gods, as is Jupiter. But his greate learning notwithstanding, it is to plaine, to be gainsayd, that old men are muche more enclined to such fond fooleries, then younger heades. (53)

And laughing lope to a tree. (March, 61. Lope: leaped)

Renaissance humanists commonly distinguished two stages in the poet’s creativity: their term poeta (Gk: maker) denoted the active artificer of verse; vates (Lat.: seer, prophet) the passive receptor of imaginative impulses (Aristotle’s enthousiasmos). For the vates’s inspiration to occur, the poeta’s skill and effort must precede. (67)

Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete?
What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ytorne?
Or is thy Bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete?
Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne?
(garres: causes to weep and complain) (Aprill, 71)

Contented I: then will I singe his laye
Of fayre Elisa, Queene of shepheardes all:
Which once he made, as by a spring he laye,
And turned it unto the Waters fall. (72)

They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,
in their meriment. (soote: sweetly; Aprill 75)

What Piers says closely echoes injunctions in the Gospels and in fact represents a moderate statement of the progressive Protestants’ concern in the 1570s for further church reform. Unlike the emerging radical Protestants, Piers does not attack maygames or church adornment as such, … But, by making Piers the continuing spokesman for the clerical ideals of the now silenced Archbishop Grindal (“as Algrind used to say” [75]), Spenser comes close to criticizing the queen’s action. (85)

Elizabethans associated the name Piers with a satirical, supposedly proto-Protestant tradition stemming from Langland, The Plowman’s Tale, and other Chaucerian apocrypha. Palinode’s name, however, merely means countersong: he reacts “Catholique,” he evidently represents the unreconstructed, superficially conforming Elizabethan cleric who sees in Pier’s of clergy to an unlearned, self-serving, nearly secular lifestyle. (85)

The debate may even suggest a “prophesying”—the bible-study sessions designed to produce an informed clergy which Grindal had refused to suppress. (86)

In terms of doctrine Piers clearly wins the debate. In terms of the poem’s depiction of human experience, he doesn’t. For Palinode’s responses, arising from tradition and human nature, must be dealt with by more than idealist preaching if reform is to succeed. (86)

But they bene hyred for little pay
Of other, that caren as little as they, [../] (Maye, 89)

Good is no good, but if it be spend:
God giveth good for none other end. (90)

The time was once, and may againe retorne,
(For ought may happen, that hath bene beforne) (91)

The shephears God so wel them guided,
That of nought they were unprovided,
Butter enough, honye, milke, and whay,
And their flockes fleeces, them to araye. (91)

And who can counsel a thristie soule,
With patience to forbeare the offred bowle? (92)

Which many wyld beastes liggen in waite,
For to entrap in thy tender state: (95)

The Bramble bush, where Byrds of every kynde
To the waters fall their tunes attemper right.
(attemper: bring into harmony; June, 110)

…for time in passing weares
(As garments doen, which waxen old above)
And draweth newe delightes with hoary heares. (111)

Colin, to heare thy rymes and doundelayes,
Which thou were wont on wastfull hylls to singe,
I more delight, then larke in Sommer dayes:
Whose Echo made the neyghbour groves to ring,
And taught the byrds, which in the lower spring
Did shroude in shady leaves from sonny rayes,
Frame to thy songe their cheerful cheriping,
Or hold theyr peace, for shame of thy swete layes. (111)

Which him to much rebke and Daunger drove:
(split infinitive, 112)

But if on me some little drops would flowe,
Of that the spring was in his learned hedde,
I soone would learne these woods, to wayle my woe,
And teache the trees, their trickling teares to shedde. (113)

Once again, E.K.’s Argument is off-base. Thomalin indeed says Morrell is “prowde” (1), but he does not discernibly sound so. Nor, in spite of E.K.’s first gloss, goes the parable of the sheep and the goats—the redeemed and the damned—seem to apply to Morrell and his goats. (Julye, 119)

The eclogue’s ending makes its general discussion of the perils of high office suddenly specific. For the braining of Algrind by a soaring “Eagle” (222) unmistakably refers to Elizabeth’s deprivation of Edward Grindal, … (120)

Julye’s verse-form is the divided (i.e. internally rhymed) fourteener… Since Elizabethans used it as the common measure of metrical psalm versions, it had also acquired distinctly Protestant connotations. (120)

…the trode is not so tickle:
(the path is not so precarious, 122)

To Kerke the narre, from God more farre,
Has bene an old sayd sawe. (narre: nearer; 125)

Ah Willye, when the harte is ill assayed,
How can Bagpipe, or joints be well apayed?
(assayed: afflicted; apayd: contented, rewarded, pleased; 138)

Perigot: I saw the bouncing Bellibone,
Willye: hey ho Bonibell,
Perigot: Tripping over the dale alone,
Willye: she can trippe it very well:
Perigot: Well decked in a frocke of gray,
Willye: hey ho gray is greete,
Perigot: And in a Kirtle of greene saye,
Willye: the greene is for maydens meete: (August, 140)

Perigot: My sheepe did leave theyr wonted foode,
Willye: hey ho seely sheepe,
Perigot: And gazd on her, as they were wood,
Willye: woode as he, that did them keepe.
Perigot: As the bonilasse passed bye,
Willye: hey ho bonilasse,
Perigot: She roved at me with glauncing eye,
Willye: as cleare as the christall glasse: (August, 141)

Perigot: But whether in paynefull love I pyne,
Willye: hey ho pinching payne,
Perigot: Or thrive in welth, she shalbe mine.
Willye: but if thou can her obteine.
Perigot: And if for gracelesse greefe I dye,
Willye: hey ho gracelesse griefe,
Perigot: Witnesse, shee slewe me with her eye:
Willye: let thy follye be the priefe. (142)

Thus all the night in plaints, the day in woe (145)

The night nigheth fast, yts time to be gone. (145)

The jolly shepeheard that was of yore,
Is nowe nor jollye, nor shepehearde more. (September, 152)

Whence is it, that the flouret of the field doth fade,
And lyeth buryed long in Winters bale:
Yet soone as spring his mantle doth displaye,
It floureth fresh, as it should never fayle?
But thing on earth that is of most availe,
As vertues braunch and beauties budde,
Reliven not for any good. (November, 191)

You frame my thoughts and fashion me within,
you stop my toung, and teach my hart to speake,
you calme the storme that passion did begin, (Sonnet VIII)

In that proud port, which her so goodly graceth,
whiles her faire face she reares up to the skie:
and to the ground her eie lids low embaseth,
most goodly temperature ye may descry,
Myld humblesse mixt with awfull majesty,
for looking on the earth whence she was borne,
her minde remembreth her mortalitie:
what so is fairest shall to earth returne.
But that same lofty countenance seemes to scorne
base thing, and thinke how she to heaven may clime:
treading downe earth as lothsome and forlorne,
that hinders heavenly thoughts with drossy slime.
Yet lowly still vouchsafe to looke on me,
such lowlinesse shall make you lofty be. (Sonnet XIII)

The merry Cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trompet shrill hath thrise already sounded:
That warnes al lovers wayt upon their king,
Who now is coming forth with girland crouned.
With noyse whereof the quyre of Byrds resounded
Their anthems sweet devised of loves prayse,
That all the woods theyr echoes back rebounded,
As if they knew the meaning of their layes.
But mongst them all, which did Loves honor rayse,
No word was heard of her that most it ought,
But she his precept proudly disobayes,
And doth his ydle message set at nought.
Therefore O love, unlesse she turne to thee
Ere Cuckow end, let her a rebel be. (XIX, 612)

[Cuckow: The cuckoo’s raucous cry is the call of the male during mating season. Its “trompet shrill” (2) contrasts with the “anthems sweet” (6) of the other birds. The lady correctly interprets the cuckoo’s cry as an “ydle message” (12). She is guiding the lover to a greater love, and, indeed, the poet later describes the cuckoo’s song as “witlesse” (LXXXV). Proudly: the lover continues to misinterpret the lady’s proper modesty as pride.]

This holy season fit to fast and pray,
Men to devotion ought to be inclined:
Therefore, I likewise on so holy day,
For my sweet Saynt some service fit will find.
Her temple fayre is built within my mind,
In which her glorious ymage placed is,
On which my thoughts doo day and night attend
Lyke sacred priests that never thinke amisse.
There I to her as th’author of my blisse,
Will builde an altar to appease her yre:
And on the same my hart will sacrifice,
Burning in flames of pure and chast desyre:
The which vochsafe O goddesse to accept,
Amongst thy deerest relicks to be kept. (XXII)

Ceasse then, till she vouchsafe to grawnt me rest,
Or lend you me another living brest. (XXXIII)

Mark when she smiles with amiable cherae,
And tell me whereto can ye lyken it:
When on each eyelid sweetly doe appeare
An hundred Graces as in shade to sit.
Lykest it seemeth in my simple wit
Unto the fayre sunshine in somers day:
That when a dreadfull storme away is flit,
Thrugh the broad world doth spred his goodly ray:
At sight whereof each bird that sits on spray,
And every beast that to his den was fled
Comes forth afresh out of their late dismay,
And to the light lift up theyr drouping hed.
So my storme beaten hart likewise is cheared
With that sunshine when cloudy looks are cleared.
(Sonnet XL. Cf. Shakespeare.)

Leave lady in your glasse of christall clene,
Your goodly selfe for evermore to vew:
And in my selfe, my inward selfe I meane,
Most lively lyke behold your semblant trew.
Within my hart, though hardly it can shew
Thing so divine to vew of earthly eye:
The fayre Idea of your celestiall hew,
And every part remaines immortally:
And were it not that through your cruelty,
With sorrow dimmed and deformed it were:
The goodly ymage of your visnomy,
Clearer then christall would therein appere.
But if your selfe in me ye playne will see,
Remove the cause by which your fayre beames darkned be. (XLV)

When my abodes prefized time is spent,
My cruell fayre straight bids me wend my way: but then from heaven most hideous stormes are sent
As willing me against her will to stay.
Whom then shall I or heaven or her obay?
The heavens know best what is the best for me:
But as she will, whose will my life doth sway,
My lower heaven, so it perforce must bee.
But ye high heavens, that all this sorowe see,
Sith all your tempests cannot hold me backe:
Aswage your stormes, or else both you and she,
Will both together me too sorely wrack.
Enough it is for one man to sustaine
The stormes, which she alone on me doth raine. (XLVI, 628)

[The poet here trivializes the concept of the lover’s function as mirror (see note to line 1 of VII). Her image in his heart is, as he suggests, “dimmed and deformd” (10) by his sorrow; however, the proper solution is not her submission, but his transcendence of the deforming passions. Ironically, it is precisely her resistance that serves to “remove the cause by which your fayre darkned be” (14)]

O mighty charm which makes men love theyr bane,
And thinck they dy with pleasure, [whilst] live with payne. (629)

Fayre be ye sure but proud and pittilesse,
As is a storme, that all things doth prostrate:
Finding a tree alone all comfortlesse,
Beats on it strongly it to ruinate.
Fayre be ye sure, but hard and obstinate,
As is a rock amidst the raging floods:
Gaynst which a shipof succour desolate,
Doth suffer wreck both of her selfe and goods.
[inverting metaphor] (LVI, 633)

They that in course of heavenly spheares are skild,
To every planet point his sundry yeare:
In which her circles voyage is fulfild,
As Mars in three score yeares doth run his spheare. [79 years]
So since the winged God [cupid] his planet cleare
Began in me to move, one yeare is spent:
The which doth longer unto me appeare,
Then al those fourty which my life outwent.
Then by that count, which lovers books invent,
The spheare of Cupid fourty yeares containes:
Which I have wasted in long languishment,
That seemd the longer for my greater paines.
But let my loves fayre Planet short her wayes
This yeare ensuing, or else short my dayes. (LX)

Such heavenly formes ought rather worshipt be,
Then dare be lov’d by men of meane degree. (LXI)

Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace,
Seeing the game from his escapt away:
Sits downe to rest him in some shady place,
With panting hounds beguiled of their pray,
So after long pursuit and vaine assay,
When I all weary had the chace forsooke,
The gentle deare returnd the self-same way,
Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke.
There she beholding me with mylder looke,
Sought not to fly, but fearelesse still did bide:
Till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke,
And with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde.
Strange thing me seemd to see a beast so wyld,
So goodly wonne with her owne will beguyld.
(LXVII. followed by LXVIII : )
Most glorious Lord of lyfe that on this day
Didst make thy triumph over death and sin:
…
So let us love, deare love, lyke as we ought,
Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught. (641)

[her own will: LXVII announces metaphorically that the new bond of love between the lady and the lover came about not through his conquest but through her voluntary submission. Prescott (1985) shows that the chief symbolic elements of this poem—the hart, water, and voluntary submission—are those of the medieval liturgical tradition of the Easter Eve baptism of the catechumens.]

Most happy letters fram’d by skilfull trade,
With which that happy name was first desyned:
The which three times thrise happy hath me made,
With guifts of body, fortune and of mind.
The first my being to me gave by kind,
From mothers womb deriv’d by dew descent,
The second is my sovereigne Queene most kind,
That honour and large richesse to me lent.
The third my love, my lives last ornament,
By whom my spirit out of dust was raysed:
To speake her prayse and glory excellent,
Of all alive most worthy to be praysed.
Ye three Elizabeths for ever live,
That three such graces did unto me give.
(LXXIIII) [three Elizabeths: This is Sp’s only mention of his mother’s or wife’s name.]

Fayre bosome fraught with vertues richest tresure,
The neast of love, the lodging of delight:
The bowre of blisse, the paradice of pleasure,
The sacred harbour of that hevenly spright.
How was I ravisht with your lovely sight,
And my frayle thoughts too rashly led astry?
Whiles diving deepe thorugh amorous insight,
On the sweet spoyle of beautie they did pray.
And twixt her paps like early fruit in May,
Whose harvest seemd to hasten now apace:
They loosely did theyr wanton winges display,
And there to rest themselves did boldly place.
Sweet thought I envy your so happy rest,
Which oft I wisht, yet never was so blest.

[the subject of these sonnets is not the poet, but, specifically, his thoughts.] (LXXVI)

Deepe in the closet of my parts entire,
Her worth is written with a golden quill: (LXXXV)

The irregular stanzas resemble in some ways those of the Pindaric ode and in others those of the Petrarchan canzone, … (Epithalamion, 658)

In the form of the stanzas there is a tension between regularity and irregularity reflecting the larger tension between universality and particularity. Like the sonnets of Amor, the stanzas were printed one to a page, but they vary in length from seventeen to nineteen lines (excluding the seven-line envoy) according to no pattern that has been explained. The rhyme scheme of each begins with the same pattern, then diverges. Most, but not all, are divided into four sections by the occurrence of short lines (mostly trimeter) in approximately, but not exactly, the same places. The regrain of each stanza is similar, yet subtly and significantly varied. (659)

…we follow the linear progression of the events not by clock time, but by the phenomena of celestial light: twilight, sunrise, sunshine, dusk, nightfall, moonlight. Indeed the poet treats the motions of sun, moon, and stars not merely as concurrent phenomena by which we measure human experience, but temporarily as active participants from the whole range of natural and social orders. Yet this integration of natural forces with human aspirations is, the poet recognizes, only temporary: “let this one day be myne,/Let all the rest be thing,” he implores the sun (125-6) (661)

And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,
Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,
Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,
And teach the woods and waters to lament
Your dolefull dreriment: (Epithalamion, stanza 1)

So Orpheus did for his owne bride,
So I unto my selfe alone will sing,
The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring. (1)

Early before the worlds light giving lampe
His golden beame upon the hils doth spred,
Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe, (2)

And whylest she doth her dight [clothe],
Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing,
That all the woods may answer and your echo ring. (2)

Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,
For she will waken strayt,
The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,
The woods shall to you answer and your Eccho ring. (3)

Hark how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies
And carroll of loves praise.
The merry Larke hir matins sing aloft,
The thrush replyes, the Mavis descant playes,
The Ouzell shrills, the Ruddock warbles soft,
So goodly all agree with sweet consent,
To this dayes merriment. (5)
[Larke: songbird associated with dawn… Mavis: a variety of thrush with a mellow song. Ouzell: blackbird. Ruddock: robin.]

Ah my deere love why doe ye sleepe thus long,
When meter were that ye should now awake, (5)

O fairest Phoebus, father of the Muse,
If ever I did honour thee aright,
Or sing the thing, that mote thy mind delight,
Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse,
But let this day let this one day by myne,
Let all the rest be thine. (7)

But most of all the Damzels doe delite,
When they their tymbrels smyte,
And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet,
That all the sences they doe ravish quite,
The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street, (8)

Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,
Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowers a tweene,
Doe lyke a golden mantle her attire,
And being crowned with a girland greene,
Seeme lyke some mayden Queene. (9)

There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne,
And giveth lawes alone. (11)

Behold whiles she before the altar stands [a]
Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes [b]
And blesseth her with his two happy hands, [1]
How the red roses flush up in her cheeks, [b]
And the pure snow with goodly vermill stayne, [c]
Like crimsin dyde in grayne, [c]
That even th’Angels which continually, [d]
About the sacred Altare doe remaine, [c]
Forget their service and about her fly, [d]
Ofte peeping in her face that seemes more fayre, [e]
The more they on it stare. [e]
But her sad eyes still fastened on the ground, [f]
Are governed with goodly modesty, [d]
That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry, [d]
Which may let in a little thought unsownd. [f]
Why blush ye love to give to me your hand, [g]
The pledge of all our band? [g]
Sing ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing, [h]
That all the woods may answere and your echo ring. [h]

(Stanza entire, 13)

Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,
Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,
Poure out to all that wull,
And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,
That they may sweat, and drunken be withal. (14)

But for this time it ill ordained was,
To chose the longest day in all the yeare,
And shortest night, when longest fitter weare: (15)

Ne let th’unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking
Make us to wish theyr choking. (19)

And in the secret darke, that none reproves, (20)

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?
Of fairest goddesse, do thou not envy
My love with me to spy:
For thou likewise didst love, …
…
Encline thy will t’effect our wishfull vow,
And the chast wombe informe with timely seed, (21)

Against the Brydale day, which is not long:
Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.
(refrain, Prothalamion)

So purely white they were,
That even the gentle streame, the which them bare,
Seem’d foule to them, and bad his billowes spare
To wet their silken feathers, …
(Prothalamion, swans. Stanza 3)

Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord,
And blessed Plentie wait upon your bord,
And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,
That fruitfull issue may to you afford,
Which may your foes confound,
And make your joyes redound,
Upon your Brydale day, which is not long:
Sweete Themmes run softlie, till I end my Song. (6)