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 seeme, When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore, Scattred with Flowres, through Thessaly they streeme, That they appeare, through Lillies plenteous store, Like a Brydes Chamber flore. Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found, The which presenting all in trim Array, Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd, Whil'st one did sing this Lay, Prepar'd against that Day, Against their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete 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 blisfull bower, Joy 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 upon you smile, Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove All Loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile For ever 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 joyes redound Upon your Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softlie, till I end my Song.' So ended she; and all the rest around To her redoubled that her undersong, Which said their brydale daye should not be long: And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground Their accents did resound. So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along, Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low, As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong, 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 starres. So they, enranged well, Did on those two attend, And their best service lend Against their wedding day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.