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Selection from Epithalamium
Edmund Spenser 
Amoretti and Epithalamium (1595, 43)

Wake now my love, awake; for it is time, 
The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed, 
All ready to her silver coche to clyme, 
And Phoebus ‘gins to shew his glorious head. 
Hark how the cheerefull birds do chaunt their lays 
And carroll of love’s praise. 

The merry Larke her matins sings aloft, 
The thrush replies, the Mavis descant playes, 
The Ouzell shrills, the Ruddock warbles soft, 
So goodly all agree with sweet content, 
To this dayes merriment. 

Ah my deere love why doe ye sleepe thus long, 
When meeter were that ye should now awake, 
T’awayt the coming of your joyous make, 
And hearken to the birds’ lovelearned song, 
The dewy leaves among. 

For they of joy and pleasance to you sing, 
That all the woods them answer and their echo ring. 
My love is now awake out of her dreame, 
And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmèd were 
With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams 
More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere.