Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
 
E. Spenser
 
LIII. Prothalamion
 
CALM was the day, and through the trembling air 
Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play— 
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay 
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair; 
When I, (whom sullen care,         5
Through discontent of my long fruitless stay 
In princes' court, and expectation vain 
Of idle hopes, which still do fly away 
Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain,) 
Walk'd forth to ease my pain  10
Along the shore of silver-streaming Thames, 
Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems, 
Was painted all with variable flowers, 
And all the meads adorn'd with dainty gems 
Fit to deck maidens' bowers,  15
And crown their paramours 
Against the bridal day, which is not long: 
  Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 
  
There in a meadow by the river's side 
A flock of nymphs I chancèd to espy,  20
All lovely daughters of the flood thereby, 
With goodly greenish locks all loose untied 
As each had been a bride; 
And each one had a little wicker basket 
Made of fine twigs, entrailèd curiously.  25
In which they gather'd flowers to fill their flasket, 
And with fine fingers cropt full feateously 
The tender stalks on high. 
Of every sort which in that meadow grew 
They gather'd some—the violet, pallid blue,  30
The little daisy that at evening closes, 
The virgin lily and the primrose true, 
With store of vermeil roses, 
To deck their bridegrooms' posies 
Against the bridal day, which was not long:  35
  Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 
  
With that I saw two swans of goodly hue 
Come softly swimming down along the Lee: 
Two fairer birds I yet did never see; 
The snow which doth the top of Pindus strow  40
Did never whiter show, 
Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be 
For love of Leda, whiter did appear; 
Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he, 
Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near;  45
So purely white they were 
That even the gentle stream, the which them bare? 
Seem'd foul to them, and bade his billows spare 
To wet their silken feathers, lest they might 
Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair,  50
And mar their beauties bright 
That shone as Heaven's light 
Against their bridal day, which was not long: 
  Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song. 
  
Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill?  55
Ran all in haste to see that silver brood 
As they came floating on the crystal flood; 
Whom when they saw, they stood amazèd still 
Their wondering eyes to fill; 
Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fair  60
Of fowls, so lovely, that they sure did deem 
Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair 
Which through the sky draw Venus' silver team; 
For sure they did not seem 
To be begot of any earthly seed,  65
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 seem'd as day,  70
Ev'n 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,  75
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 
Scatter'd with flowers, through Thessaly they stream,  80
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,  85
Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crown'd; 
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.  90
  
"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 heart's content 
Of your love's couplement;  95
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. 100
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, 105
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, 110
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 murmur'd low, 115
As he would speak but that he lack'd 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 120
The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend 
The lesser stars. So they, enrangèd well, 
Did on those two attend, 
And their best service lend 
Against their wedding day, which was not long: 125
  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, 130
An house of ancient fame: 
There when they came whereas those bricky towers 
The which on Thames' broad aged back do ride, 
Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers, 
There whilome wont the Templar-knights to bide, 135
Till they decay'd through pride; 
Next whereunto there stands a stately place, 
Where oft I gainèd gifts and goodly grace 
Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell, 
Whose want too well now feels my friendless case: 140
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, 145
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! 150
That fillest England with thy triumphs' 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 155
Thy country may be freed from foreign harms, 
And great Elisa's glorious name may ring 
Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarms, 
Which some brave Muse may sing 
To ages following: 160
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 th' ocean billows he hath bathèd fair, 165
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, 170
With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature, 
Fit for so goodly stature, 
That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight 
Which deck the baldric of the heavens bright; 
They two, forth pacing to the river's side, 175
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. 180
 
 
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