So ended she; and all the rest around To her redoubled{26} that her undersong, Which said, their brydale day should not be long: And gentle Eccho from the neighbour{27} 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{28} 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,{29} 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,{30} There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde, Till they decayd through pride; Next whereunto there standes a stately place,{31} 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;{32} But ah! here fits not well{33} 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,{34} Great Englands glory, and the worlds wide wonder, Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine{35} did thunder, And Hercules two Pillors{36} standing neere 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.