Hymn to the Morning

Hail! goddess of the silver star, Whose twinkling orb gives signal of the day; Oh! queen of light, whose virgin ray The sun salutes in his celestial car; Whose active heat melts every cloud That would thy dawn of glory shroud, And stain the lustre of thy laughing eye, While beneath thy azure sky Dimple-cheek'd Health with rosy feature glows, Thro' lowing pastures on she goes, Wearing the milkmaid's ruddy grace, Ease in her tripping step, and pleasure in her face.

Fore-runner of the day's bright reign, And giver of unspeakable delight! How nature triumphs at thy sight, And looks thanksgiving thro' her large domain! At thy approach, the conscious trees Bend humbly to thy tepid breeze, And every flower a fresher brightness wears: Labour to the field repairs, Where buxom Ceres waits him with a smile; Whistling he crosses every stile, Or chants some love-lorn ditty's air, With which he means to charm, and win his favourite fair.

Oh! sovereign of the spicy gale, Of odours pure, and salutary dews, Oft as thy star its beam renews, Thy violet breath entranc'd let me inhale: Give me to range thy wholesome hills, Thy vallies bright with crystal rills, And verdant lawns where many a wild-flower grows, There, while Zephyr softly blows, Let me indulge the heaven-devoted thought, And render praises, as I ought, To him, whose power and love divine Call'd thee from total void, and bad thy beauty shine.