Elegy I. Morning

The opening east now streaks a ruddy ray, The morn far-streaming shakes the realms of night, Aurora pours the bright resplendent day, And drowsy darkness wings her heavy flight.

The eve-born fogs in vagrant vapours rise, And shade the earth with clouds of murky hue, 'Till Phoebus, chasing Chaos from the skies, Bedecks th' enlighten'd scene with radiant dew.

Nature, awak'd from sweet refreshing rest, Infuses vigour thro' Creation's reign, Gay pleasures dawn, and gladden every breast, While Joy inspires one universal strain.

In greener verdure shines each tree array'd, A brighter blossom buds the leafy spray, The swarming songsters, thro' the sylvan shade, On every bush blythe-warbling pour the lay.

To shun the loath'd embrace of meagre want, The early threshers whirl aloft the flail; And lusty woodmen, at the lark's first chant, The forest-echo with their axes hail.

Now whistling hinds prepare the toilful plow, Or drive o'er flowery lawns the frisking flock, Now shepherds climb the summit's craggy brow, And goats high-pendent browse the bushy rock.

The big-swoln udder prompts the lowing train The balmy tribute to their lord to pay, The merry milkmaid and the jocund swain Now carol wild a rustic roundelay.

The jolly hunter winds his bugle-horn, And cheerful notes rend wide the welkin round, Shrill echo wakes the slowly-rising morn, And every glowing bosom feels the sound.

In civil life, where various arts abound, That give or ease or dignity to man, The dawning light and busy scene around Display the thoughtful brow, and toilful clan.

Now, lightly tripping o'er the breezy green, The bright Hygeia leads her festive train, Now young-eyed Pleasure's laughing troop is seen To tread in mazy dance the pearly plain.

Whilst, on the yielding pillow's downy folds, In sleepy state nods Sloth's destructive power, A stupid dose her drowsy votaries holds, And man beguiles of life's most precious hour.

Around her couch sits spirit-wasting spleen, The hollow eye that looks heart-gnawing care, The asthma, pallid form, and sickness green, While physic's solemn sons smile dreadful near.

The crew, who, late so barbarously gay, Swell'd the loud riot o'er the midnight bowl, In Morpheus' cave unseemly snore the day, Void of each manly nobleness of soul.

The upland walks more sapient spirits seek, Where ease and health, and sweet content agree, Where rosy redness streaks the blooming cheek, Where pompous doctor never palm'd a fee.

As Nature's variegated beauties rise, How swells the growing landscape on the eye! From the fine blendure of ten thousand dyes, The visual soul is lost in grand variety.

Now gay imagination boldly roves, Excursive thro' creation's ample scene, O'er the bare desert, thro' the spicy groves, The dank wave's depth, and ether's blue serene.

Oft too inspir'd at morning's early dawn The bard high wrapt in sweet poetic dream, Or slowly wanders o'er the dewy lawn, Or on the daisied marge of murmuring stream.

There as Aurora shed ambrosial light, Erst to her Shakespear's lov'd embrace she flew, There swell'd his soul with rapturous delight, As Nature's genuine charms her pencil drew.

Oft Spencer too, Eliza's blithest swain, With her in dalliance has the hours beguil'd, From oaten reed oft pip'd the artless strain To moral fiction, Fancy's loveliest child.

O power, that giv'st the energy of song, Without whose aid the labour'd volume's nought, O snatch a votary from the lifeless throng, Inspire each line, and animate each thought!

Thy genial impulse warms the bard to sing, In every different clime and rolling age, And erst beside thy fairy-grot did spring Each Attic wreath, that crowns the tuneful sage.