Francis Pilkington - With fragrant flowers we strew the way - текст песни (слова)

With fragrant flowers we strew the way,
 And make this our chief holy day,
 For though this clime were blest of yore,
 Yet was it never proud before: 
 O gracious Queen, of second Troy,
 Accept of our unfeigned joy. 
 
 Now th'air is sweeter than sweet balm,
 And satyrs dance about the palm:
 Now earth with verdure newly dight,
 Gives perfect signs of her delight.
 O gracious Queen...
 
 Now birds record new harmony,
 And trees do whistle melody:
 Now every thing that Nature breeds
 Doth clad itself in pleasant weeds.
 O gracious Queen...