For sure they did not seem

To be begot of any earthly seed,

But rather angels, or of angels' breed;

Yet were they bred of summer's heat, they say,
In sweetest season, when each flower and weed
The earth did fresh array;

So fresh they seemed as day,

Even as their bridal day, which was not long :
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,
All which upon those goodly birds they threw,
And all the waves did strew,

That like old Peneus' waters they did seem,
When, down along by pleasant Tempe's shore,
Scattered with flowers through Thessaly they stream,
That they appear, through lilies' plenteous store,
Like a bride's chamber floor.

Two of those Nymphs, meanwhile, two garlands bound
Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found,
The which presenting all in trim array,

Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crowned,
Whilst one did sing this lay,

Prepared against that day,

Against their bridal day, which was not long

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song !):

'Ye gentle birds, the world's fair ornament,
And heaven's glory, whom this happy hour
Doth lead unto your lovers' blissful bower,
Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content
Of your love's couplement !

And let fair Venus, that is queen of love,
With her heart-quelling son upon you smile:
Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove
All love's dislike, and friendship's faulty guile
For ever to assoil!

Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord,
And blessed plenty wait upon your board;
And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound,
That fruitful issue may to you afford,

Which may your foes confound,

And make your joys redound

Upon your bridal day, which is not long :

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.'

So ended she; and all the rest around

To her redoubled that her undersong,

Which said, their bridal day should not be long :
And gentle Echo from the neighbour ground
Their accents did resound.

So forth those joyous birds did pass along
Adown the Lee, that to them murmured low,
As he would speak, but that he lacked a tongue,
Yet did by signs his glad affection show,
Making his stream run slow;

And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell

'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel
The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend
The lesser stars. So they, enrangéd well,
Did on those two attend,

And their best service lend

Against their wedding day, which was not long :
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

At length they all to merry London came,
To merry London, my most kindly nurse,
That to me gave this life's first native source,
Though from another place I take my name,
An house of ancient fame!

There when they came, whereas those bricky towers
The which on Thames' broad, agéd back do ride,
Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers;
There whilom wont the Templar Knights to bide,
Till they decayed through pride;

Next whereunto there stands a stately place,
Where oft I gainéd gifts and goodly grace

Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell;
Whose want too well now feels my friendless case;
But ah! here fits not well

Old woes, but joys, to tell

Against the bridal day, which is not long :

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer,

Great England's glory and the world's wide wonder,

Whose dreadful name late through all Spain did thunder,

And Hercules' two pillars standing near

Did make to quake and fear.

Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry,

That fillest England with thy triumph's fame,

Joy have thou of thy noble victory,

And endless happiness of thine own name

That promiseth the same!

That, through thy prowess and victorious arms,
Thy country may be freed from foreign harms,
And great Elisa's glorious name may ring

Through all the world, filled with thy wide alarms,
Which some brave muse may sing

To ages following,

Upon the bridal day, which is not long :

Sweet Thames ! run softly, till I end my song.

From those high towers this noble lord issúing,
Like radiant Hesper, when his golden hair
In the ocean billows he hath bathéd fair,
Descended to the river's open viewing,
With a great train ensuing.

Above the rest were goodly to be seen
Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature,
Beseeming well the bower of any queen,
With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature

Fit for so goodly stature

That like the twins of Jove they seemed in sight,
Which deck the bauldrick of the heavens bright:
They two, forth pacing to the river's side,

Received those two fair brides, their love's delight;
Which at th' appointed tide,

Each one did make his bride

Against their bridal day, which is not long:

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

Edmund Spenser.

78

FAIN WOULD I, BUT I DARE NOT

FAIN would I, but I dare not; I dare, and yet I may not ;
I may, although I care not, for pleasure when I play not.
You laugh because you like not; I jest whenas I joy not;
You pierce, although you strike not; I strike and yet annoy

not.

I spy, whenas I speak not; for oft I speak and speed not;

But of my wounds you reck not, because you see they bleed

not;

Yet bleed they where you see not, but you the pain endure not; Of noble mind they be not, that ever kill and cure not.

I see, whenas I view not; I wish, although I crave not;
I serve, and yet I sue not; I hope for that I have not;

I catch, although I hold not; I burn, although I flame not;
I seem, whenas I would not; and when I seem, I am not.

Yours am I, though I seem not, and will be, though I show not; Mine outward deeds then deem not, when mine intent you know

not;

But if my serving prove not most sure, although I sue not,
Withdraw your mind and love not, nor of my ruin rue not.
Walter Raleigh.

79

THE SILENT LOVER

Passions are likened best to floods and streams:
The shallow murmur but the deep are dumb;
So, when affections yield discourse, it seems

The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
They that are rich in words, in words discover
That they are poor in that which makes a lover.

WRONG not, sweet empress of my heart,
The merit of true passion,

With thinking that he feels no smart,
That sues for no compassion;

Since, if my plaints serve not to approve
The conquest of thy beauty,

It comes not from defect of love,
But from excess of duty.

For, knowing that I sue to serve
A saint of such perfection,
As all desire, but none deserve,
A place in her affection :

I rather choose to want relief
Than venture the revealing.
Where glory recommends the grief,
Despair distrusts the healing!

Thus those desires that aim too high
For any mortal lover,

When reason cannot make them die,
Discretion doth them cover.

Yet, when discretion doth bereave
The plaints that they should utter,
Then thy discretion may perceive
That silence is a suitor.

Silence in love bewrays more woe
Than words, though ne'er so witty;
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.

Then wrong not, dearest to my heart,
My true, though secret, passion :
He smarteth most that hides his smart,
And sues for no compassion.

Walter Raleigh.

80

TO COLIN CLOUT

BEAUTY sat bathing by a spring,

Where fairest shades did hide her.
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,
The cool streams ran beside her.
My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye
To see what was forbidden :
But better memory said, Fie,

So vain desire was chidden-
Hey, nonnie, nonnie!

Into a slumber then I fell,

When fond imagination

Seeméd to see but could not tell

Her feature or her fashion.

But, even as babes in dreams do smile

And sometimes fall a weeping,

So I awaked, as wise this while,
As when I fell a sleeping--
Hey, nonnie, nonnie!

Anthony Munday.