E arth now is greene, and heauen is blew,
L iuely Spring which makes all new,
I olly Spring, doth enter;
S weete yong sun-beames doe subdue
A ngry, agèd Winter.
B lasts are milde, and seas are calme,
E uery meadow flowes with balme,
T he Earth weares all her riches;
H armonious birdes sing such a psalme,
A s eare and heart bewitches.
R eserue (sweet Spring) this Nymph of ours,
E ternall garlands of thy flowers,
G reene garlands neuer wasting;
I n her shall last our State's faire Spring,
N ow and for euer flourishing,
A s long as Heauen is lasting.
HYMNE IV.
To the Moneth of May.
E ach day of thine, sweet moneth of May,
L oue makes a solemne holy-day.
I will performe like duty,
S ith thou resemblest euery way
A stræa, Queen of beauty,
B oth you fresh beauties do pertake,
E ither's aspect doth Summer make,
T houghts of young Loue awaking;
H earts you both doe cause to ake,
A nd yet be pleas'd with akeing.
R ight deare art thou, and so is shee,
E uen like attractiue sympathy,
G aines vnto both like dearenesse;
I weene this made Antiquitie
N ame thee, sweet May of Maiestie,
A s being both like in clearnesse.