Ye learned sisters which have oftentimes

Beene to me ayding, others to adorne:

Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes

That even the greatest did not greatly scorne

To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes

But joyed in theyr prayse

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

Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside

And having all your heads with girland crownd

Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound

Ne let the same of any be envide:

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

Early before the worlds light giving lampe

His golden beame upon the hils doth spred

Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe

Doe ye awake, and with fresh lusty hed

Go to the bowre of my beloved love

My truest turtle dove

Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake

And long since ready forth his maske to move

With his bright Tead that flames with many a flake

And many a bachelor to waite on him

In theyr fresh garments trim

Bid her awake therefore and soone her dight

For lo the wished day is come at last

That shall for al the paynes and sorrowes past

Pay to her usury of long delight:

And whylest she doth her dight

Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing

That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring

Bring with you all the Nymphes that you can heare

Both of the rivers and the forrests greene:

And of the sea that neighbours to her neare

Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene

And let them also with them bring in hand

Another gay girland

For my fayre love of lillyes and of roses

Bound truelove wize with a blew silke riband

And let them make great store of bridale poses

And let them eeke bring store of other flowers

To deck the bridale bowers

And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread

For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong

Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along

And diapred lyke the discolored mead

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

Ye Nymphes of Mulla which with carefull heed

The silver scaly trouts doe tend full well

And greedy pikes which use therein to feed

(Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell)

And ye likewise which keepe the rushy lake

Where none doo fishes take

Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light

And in his waters which your mirror make

Behold your faces as the christall bright

That when you come whereas my love doth lie

No blemish she may spie

And eke ye lightfoot mayds which keepe the deere

That on the hoary mountayne use to towre

And the wylde wolves which seeke them to devoure

With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer

Be also present heere

To helpe to decke her and to help to sing

That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring

Wake, now my love, awake; for it is time

The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed

All ready to her silver coche to clyme

And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious hed

Hark how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies

And carroll of loves praise

The merry Larke hir mattins sings 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

Ah my deere love why doe ye sleepe thus long

When meeter were that ye should now awake

T'awayt the comming of your joyous make

And hearken to the birds lovelearned song

The deawy leaves among

For they of joy and pleasance to you sing

That all the woods them answer and theyr eccho ring

My love is now awake out of her dreames

And her fayre eyes like stars that dimmed were

With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beames

More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere

Come now ye damzels, daughters of delight

Helpe quickly her to dight

But first come ye fayre houres which were begot

In Joves sweet paradice, of Day and Night

Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot

And al that ever in this world is fayre

Doe make and still repayre

And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene

The which doe still adorne her beauties pride

Helpe to addorne my beautifullest bride:

And as ye her array, still throw betweene

Some graces to be seene

And as ye use to Venus, to her sing

The whiles the woods shal answer and your eccho ring

Now is my love all ready forth to come

Let all the virgins therefore well awayt

And ye fresh boyes that tend upon her groome

Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt

Set all your things in seemely good aray

Fit for so joyfull day

The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see

Faire Sun, shew forth thy favourable ray

And let thy lifull heat not fervent be

For feare of burning her sunshyny face

Her beauty to disgrace

O fayrest 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 be myne

Let all the rest be thine

Then I thy soverayne prayses loud will sing

That all the woods shal answer and theyr eccho ring

Harke how the Minstrels gin to shrill aloud

Their merry Musick that resounds from far

The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud

That well agree withouten breach or jar

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

Crying aloud with strong confused noyce

As if it were one voyce

Hymen io Hymen, Hymen they do shout

That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill

Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill

To which the people standing all about

As in approvance doe thereto applaud

And loud advaunce her laud

And evermore they Hymen Hymen sing

That al the woods them answer and theyr eccho ring

Loe where she comes along with portly pace

Lyke Phoebe from her chamber of the East

Arysing forth to run her mighty race

Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best

So well it her beseemes that ye would weene

Some angell she had beene

Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre

Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres a tweene

Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre

And being crowned with a girland greene

Seeme lyke some mayden Queene

Her modest eyes abashed to behold

So many gazers, as on her do stare

Upon the lowly ground affixed are

Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold

But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud

So farre from being proud

Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing

That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring

Tell me ye merchants daughters did ye see

So fayre a creature in your towne before?

So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she

Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store

Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright

Her forehead yvory white

Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded

Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte

Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded

Her paps lyke lyllies budded

Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre

And all her body like a pallace fayre

Ascending uppe with many a stately stayre

To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre

Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze

Upon her so to gaze

Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing

To which the woods did answer and your eccho ring

But if ye saw that which no eyes can see

The inward beauty of her lively spright

Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree

Much more then would ye wonder at that sight

And stand astonisht lyke to those which red

Medusaes mazeful hed

There dwels sweet love and constant chastity

Unspotted fayth and comely womenhed

Regard of honour and mild modesty

There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne

And giveth lawes alone

The which the base affections doe obay

And yeeld theyr services unto her will

Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may

Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill

Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures

And unrevealed pleasures

Then would ye wonder and her prayses sing

That al the woods should answer and your eccho ring

Open the temple gates unto my love

Open them wide that she may enter in

And all the postes adorne as doth behove

And all the pillours deck with girlands trim

For to recyve this Saynt with honour dew

That commeth in to you

With trembling steps and humble reverence

She commeth in, before th'almighties vew:

Of her ye virgins learne obedience

When so ye come into those holy places

To humble your proud faces;

Bring her up to th'high altar that she may

The sacred ceremonies there partake

The which do endlesse matrimony make

And let the roring Organs loudly play

The praises of the Lord in lively notes

The whiles with hollow throates

The Choristers the joyous Antheme sing

That al the woods may answere and their eccho ring

Behold whiles she before the altar stands

Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes

And blesseth her with his two happy hands

How the red roses flush up in her cheekes

And the pure snow with goodly vermill stayne

Like crimsin dyde in grayne

That even th'Angels which continually

About the sacred Altare doe remaine

Forget their service and about her fly

Ofte peeping in her face that seemes more fayre

The more they on it stare

But her sad eyes still fastened on the ground

Are governed with goodly modesty

That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry

Which may let in a little thought unsownd

Why blush ye love to give to me your hand

The pledge of all our band?

Sing ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing

That all the woods may answere and your eccho ring

Now al is done; bring home the bride againe

Bring home the triumph of our victory

Bring home with you the glory of her gaine

With joyance bring her and with jollity

Never had man more joyfull day then this

Whom heaven would heape with blis

Make feast therefore now all this live long day

This day for ever to me holy is

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 withall

Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall

And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine

And let the Graces daunce unto the rest;

For they can doo it best:

The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing

To which the woods shal answer and theyr eccho ring

Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne

And leave your wonted labors for this day:

This day is holy; doe ye write it downe

That ye for ever it remember may

This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight

With Barnaby the bright

From whence declining daily by degrees

He somewhat loseth of his heat and light

When once the Crab behind his back he sees

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?

How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?

Hast thee O fayrest Planet to thy home

Within the Westerne fome:

Thy tyred 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 nightes 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

Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast;

Enough is it, that all the day was youres:

Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast:

Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures

Now night is come, now soone 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 tooke

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 shal answere, nor your echo ring

Now welcome night, thou night so long expected

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 yongmen cease to sing:

Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring

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 misconceived dout

Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadful sights

Make sudden sad affrights;

Ne let housefyres, 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 winged loves

Like divers fethered doves

Shall fly and flutter round about your bed

And in the secret darke, that none reproves

Their prety stelthes shal worke, and snares shal spread

To filch away sweet snatches of delight

Conceald through covert night

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

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 woll, which privily

The Latmian shephard 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

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

And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight

With secret ayde doest succour and supply

Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny

Send us the timely fruit of this same night

And thou fayre Hebe, and thou Hymen free

Grant that it may so be

Til which we cease your further prayse to sing

Ne any woods shal answer, nor your Eccho ring

And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods

In which a thousand torches flaming bright

Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods

In dreadful darknesse lend desired light;

And all ye powers which in the same remayne

More then we men can fayne

Poure out your blessing on us plentiously

And happy influence upon us raine

That we may raise a large posterity

Which from the earth, which they may long possesse

With lasting happinesse

Up to your haughty pallaces may mount

And for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit

May heavenly tabernacles there inherit

Of blessed Saints for to increase the count

So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this

And cease till then our tymely joyes to sing

The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring

Song made in lieu of many ornaments

With which my love should duly have bene dect

Which cutting off through hasty accidents

Ye would not stay your dew time to expect

But promist both to recompens

Be unto her a goodly ornament

And for short time an endlesse moniment