Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/161

 EDMUND SPENSER

Ring ye the bcls, ye yong men of the towne>

And leave your wonted labors for this day:

This day is holy, doe ye write it downe,

That ye for ever it remember may.

This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight.

With Barnaby the bright,

From whence declining daily by degrees,

He somewhat loseth of his heat and light,

When once the Crab behind 'his back he sees.

But for this time it ill ordained was,

To chose the longest day in all the y care,

And shortest night, when longest fitter wearer

Yet never day so long, but late would pasbe.

Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,

And bonefiers make all day;

And daunce about them, and about them sing,

That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Ah ' when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? How .slowly docs bad Time his feathers move' Hd^t thce, O fayrcbt Planet, to thy home, Within the Webterne fome.

Thv tyred stecdes long since have need of rest. Long though it be, at last I see it gloome, And the bright evening-star with golden creast Appearc out of the East.

Fayre childe of beauty' glorious lampe of love' That all the host of heaven in ranks doost lead, And guydebt lovers through the nights sad dread, How chearefully thou lookcst from above,

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