Golden the mornings, happy speed the nights,
With constellations soft and wooing hours
That speed the bride and bridegroom to their bowers.
Splendid be my prime and soft mine age,
Who am a father to this mighty realm.
Ho there, without!
[Trumpets heard, enter pages.
Page. Mighty Sire, with trumpet and with drum,
The lofty Arthur with his host hath come.