By this the wedding ends, and brake up all the show;
And Thames, got, born, and bred, immediately doth flow
To Windsor-ward amain, that with a wond'ring eye
The forest might behold his awful empery;
And soon becometh great, with waters wext so rank
That with his wealth he seems to retch his widened bank,
Till happily attained his grandsire Chiltern's grounds,
Who with his beechen wreaths this king of rivers crowns.
Amongst his holts and hills, as on his way he makes,
At Reading once arrived, clear Kennet overtakes
Her lord, the stately Thames, which that great flood again
With many signs of joy doth kindly entertain.
Then Loddon next comes in, contributing her store,
As still we see the much runs ever to the more.
Set out with all this pomp, when this imperial stream
Himself established sees amidst his wat'ry realm,
His much-loved Henly leaves, and proudly doth pursue
His wood-nymph Windsor's seat, her lovely site to view;
Whose most delightful face when once the river sees,
Which shows herself attired in tall and stately trees,
He in such earnest love with amorous gestures wooes
That, looking still at her, his way was like to lose,
And, wand'ring in and out, so wildly seems to go
As headlong he himself into her lap would throw.
Him with the like desire the forest doth embrace,
And with her presence strives her Thames as much to grace.
No forest of them all so fit as she doth stand,
When princes, for their sports, her pleasures will command;
No wood-nymph as herself such troops hath ever seen,
Nor can such quarries boast as have in Windsor been;
Nor any ever had so many solemn days,
So brave assemblies viewed, nor took so rich assays.
Then, hand in hand, her Thames the forest softly brings
To that supremest place of the great English kings,
The Garter's royal seat, from him who did advance
That princely order first, our first that conquered France;
The temple of St. George, whereas his honoured knights,
Upon his hallowed day, observe their ancient rites;
Where Eton is at hand to nurse that learned brood,
To keep the Muses still near to this princely flood,
That nothing there may want, to beautify that seat
With every pleasure stored. And here my song complete.
But listen, and I shall you tell
A chance in Faery that befell,
Which certainly may please some well
In love and arms delighting;
Of Oberon, that jealous grew
Of one of his own fairy crew,
Too well, he feared, his queen that knew,
His love but ill requiting.
Pigwiggin was this fairy knight,
One wondrous gracious in the sight
Of fair Queen Mab, which day and night
He amorously observèd:
Which made King Oberon suspect
His service took too good effect;
His sauciness had often checked
And could have wished him stervèd.
Pigwiggin gladly would commend
Some token to Queen Mab to send,
If sea or land him aught could lend
Were worthy of her wearing.
At length this lover doth devise
A bracelet made of emmet's eyes,
A thing he thought that she would prize,
No whit her state impairing.
And to the Queen a letter writes,
Which he most curiously indites,
Conjuring her by all the rites
Of love, she would be pleasèd
To meet him, her true servant, where
They might, without suspect or fear,
Themselves to one another clear,
And have their poor hearts easèd.
At midnight, the appointed hour;
"And for the Queen a fitting bower,"
Quoth he, "is that fair cowslip flower
On Hipcut hill that bloweth :
In all your train there's not a fay
That ever went to gather may
But she hath made it, in her way-
The tallest there that groweth."
When by Tom Thumb, a fairy page,
He sent it, and doth him engage,
By promise of a mighty wage,
It secretly to carry;
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