In honour of the double marriage of the two honorable and vertuous ladies, the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Katherine Somerset, daughters to the right honorable the Earle of Worcester, and espoused to the two worthie gentlemen, M. Henry Gilford and M. William Peter, Esquyers. Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titans When I, (whom sullein care, Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay In princes court, Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away Like empty shadows, did afflict my brayne,) Walkt forth to ease my payne Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes Whose rutty Was paynted all with variable flowers, And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes Fit to decke maydens bowres, And crown their paramours Against Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. There, in a meadow, by the rivers side, A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy, All lovely daughters of the Flood With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde, As each had been a bryde; Made of fine twigs, entrayled In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket, And with fine fingers cropt The tender stalkes on hye. Of every sort which in that meadow grew, They gathered some; the violet, pallid The little dazie that at evening closes, The virgin lillie, and the primrose trew, With store To deck their bridegroomes posies Against the brydale-day, which was not long: Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song. With that Come softly swimming downe along the lee Two fairer birds I yet did never see; The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew, Did never whiter shew, Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be For love of Leda, whiter did appeare. Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he, Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near So purely white they were, That even the gentle stream, the which them bare, Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare To wet their silken feathers, least they might Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre, And marre their beauties bright, That shone as heavens light, Against their brydale day which was not long: Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. Ran all in haste to see that silver brood, As they came floating on the cristal flood; Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed, still, Their wondring eyes to fill; Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre, Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre Which through the skie draw Venus silver teeme; For sure they did not seeme To be begot of any earthly seede, But rather angels, or of angels breede; Yet were they bred of Somers-heat, In sweetest season, when each flower and weede The earth did fresh array; So fresh they seem'd as day, Even as their brydale day, which was not long: Sweet Themmes! runne 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 yeild, All which upon those goodly birds they threw, And all the waves did strew, That like old Peneus When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore, Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly they streeme, That they appeare, through lillies plenteous store, Like a brydes chambre flore. Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two garlands bound Of freshest flowres which in that mead they found, Their snowie foreheads therewithall they crownd Whilst one did sing this lay, Prepar'd against that day, Against their brydale day, which was not long: Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. "Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament "And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower "Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower, "Ioy may you have, and gentle hearts content "Of your loves couplement; "And let faire Venus, that is Queene of Love, "With her heart-quelling Sonne "Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove "All loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile "Forever to assoile. "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 ioyes redound "Upon your brydale day, which is not long." Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. So ended she; and all the rest around To her redoubled Which said, their brydale day should not be long: And gentle Eccho from the neighbour Their accents did resound. So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along Adowne the lee, that to them murmurde low, Yet did by signes his glad affection show, Making his streame run slow. And all the foule which in his flood did dwell Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend The lesser stars. So they, enranged well, Did on those two attend, And their best service lend Against their wedding day, which was not long: Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. At length they all to mery London came, To mery London, my most kyndly nurse, That to me gave this lifes first native sourse, Though from another place I take my name, An house of auncient fame; There when they came, whereas those bricky towres The which on Themmes brode aged backe doe ryde, Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers, There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde, Till they decayd through pride; Next whereunto there standes a stately place, Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell, Whose want too well now feels my freendles case; But ah! here fits not well Old woes, but ioyes, to tell Against the brydale daye, which is not long: Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. Yet therein now doth lodge a nobler peer, Great Englands glory, and the worlds wide wonder, And Hercules two Pillors Did make to quake and feare: Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie! That fillest England with thy triumphs fame, Ioy have thou of thy noble victorie, And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name That promiseth the same; That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes, Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes, And great Elisaes glorious name may ring Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarmes, Which some brave muse may sing To ages following, Upon the brydale day which is not long: Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. From those high towers this noble lord issuing, Like radiant Hesper, In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fayre, Descended to the rivers open vewing, With a great train ensuing. Above the rest were goodly to bee seene Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature, Beseeming well the bower of any queene, With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature, Fit for so goodly stature, That like the Twins of Iove Which decke the bauldricke They two forth pacing to the rivers side, Receiv'd those two faire Brides, their loves delight; Each one did make his Bryde Against their brydale day, which is not long: Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song. NOTES.This poem was written and published towards the end of the year 1595. The word prothalamium is from Gr. pro, for, and thalamos, a bride-chamber, and would more properly be applied to a marriage-song than to "a spousall verse." Spenser had already written—earlier in the same year—the "Epithalamium" in honor of his own marriage. The singing of a hymeneal song in connection with the wedding festivities was a very ancient custom among the Greeks. Homer alludes to it in the "Iliad," XVIII, 493: "And two fair populous towns were sculptur'd there; In one were marriage pomp and revelry, And brides, in gay procession, through the streets With blazing torches from their chambers borne, While frequent rose the hymeneal song." See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," I, xii, 38. glyster. Glisten, shine. From A.-S. glisnian, glow, or shine with a soft light. "All that glisters is not gold." —Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, Act ii, sc. vii. "Know one false step is ne'er retrieved ... Nor all that glisters gold." —Gray, On a Favourite Cat, etc. fayre. Fairly. An old form of the adverb, sanctioned by very old usage, but not current in Spenser's time. "Full little knowest thou that hast not tride, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To lose good dayes that might be better spent; To speed today, to be put back tomorrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow; To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres; To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres; To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares; To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires; To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne; To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne." "Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; Strong without rage; without overflowing full." —Cooper's Hill, 189. And Pope praises the stream in still more extravagant terms: "No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear." —Windsor Forest, 227. See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," IV, xi. "I'll charm his eyes against she do appear." "Thou, too, great father of the British floods!" feateously. Neatly, skilfully. Compare Chaucer: "And French she spake ful fayre and fetisly." —Canterbury Tales, 124. "A chambre had he in that hostelrie Ful fetisly ydight with herbes sote." —Ibid., 3205. "The rathe primrose that forsaken dies." And Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale," Act iv, sc. iii; "Pale primroses that die unmarried." vermeil. Vermilion. Commonly used as a noun. Swannes. "Paulus Jovius, who died in 1552, describing the Thames, says: 'This river abounds in swans, swimming in flocks; the sight of whom and their noise are vastly agreeable to the fleets that meet them in their course.'"—Knight's Cyclopedia of London. "His corps was carried downe along the lee, Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned." Also, Ibid., IV, ii, 16: "As when two warlike brigandines at sea, With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight, Do meete together on the watry lea." The word is of Celtic origin, and is very common as a river-name in England, Ireland, France, and other parts of Western Europe. "Through long watch, and late daies weary toile, She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile." —Faerie Queene, III, i, 58. "In bed he slept not for my urging it, At board he fed not for my urging it." Also, "As You Like It," Act v, sc. iv: "Wedding is great Juno's crown— O blessed bond of board and bed!" undersong. Refrain, burden. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.Edmund Spenser was born in London about the year 1552. He was educated at Merchant Taylor's school, and in 1569 went to Cambridge University, where he entered Pembroke Hall as a sizar. In the same year his first poetical performances—translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay—were published in a miscellaneous collection without the name of the author. At the University he was zealously devoted to the study of Latin and Greek literature, and there he made the acquaintance of several students who afterwards became men of note. In 1579 he visited Sir Philip Sidney at Penshurst, with whom he afterwards spent some time in London at the house of Sidney's uncle, the Earl of Leicester. In 1580 was published, but without his name, his first considerable poem, "The Shepheards Calendar"; and in the autumn of the same year he went to Ireland as secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, the new Lord Lieutenant. With the exception of a few brief visits made to England, the remainder of his life was spent partly in Dublin and partly at Kilcolman Castle on a grant of forfeited land in the county of Cork. Between 1580 and 1589 he wrote the first three books of "The Faerie Queene," and in 1590 they were published in London, through the influence of Sir Walter Raleigh, who had recently visited the poet in Ireland. In the summer of 1594 he married a lady named Elizabeth, probably the daughter of some English settler in Ireland; and in the following year he carried to London and published the second three books of "The Faerie Queene." At about the same time were published his "Colin Clout's Come Home Again," and his "Amoretti Sonnets," and an "Epithalamium" relating to his courtship and marriage. Returning to Ireland, he resumed his labor upon the half-completed "Faerie Queene," but it was rudely Spenser has been very appropriately named "the poets' poet." "For," says Leigh Hunt, "he has had more idolatry and imitation from his brethren than all the rest put together. The old undramatic poets, Drayton, Browne, Drummond, and Giles and Phineas Fletcher, were as full of him as the dramatic were of Shakespeare. Milton studied and used him, calling him 'sage and serious Spenser'; and adding that he 'dared be known to think him a better teacher than Scotus and Aquinas.' Cowley said he became a poet by reading him. Dryden claimed him for a master. Pope said he read him with as much pleasure when he was old as when he was young. Collins and Gray loved him. Thomson, Shenstone, and a host of inferior writers expressly imitated him. Burns, Byron, Shelley, and Keats made use of his stanza. Coleridge eulogized him." Hazlitt says, "Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical." And Taine declares that no modern is more like Homer than he. With reference to the peculiar forms of language—comparatively obsolete even when "The Faerie Queene" was composed—which are so marked a characteristic of Spenser's poetry, Hales says: "The subject he chose for his great work drew him into the midst of the old times of chivalry, and the literature that belonged to them. With such a subject the older forms of the language seemed to consort better. To him, too, perhaps, as to Virgil, the older words and word-forms seemed to give elevation and dignity. Moreover, an older dialect was probably to some extent his vernacular, as he had probably passed his youth in Lancashire. Lastly, the only great poet who had preceded him, his great model, the Tityrus of whom he 'his songs did lere,' was Chaucer. To him Chaucer's language may have seemed the one language of English poetry." References: Warton's History of English Poetry; Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Poets; Craik's Spenser and his Poetry; Morley's English Writers. |