Ii

When fades the moon to shadowy-pale, And scuds the cloud before the gale, Ere the Morn all gem-bedight Hath streak'd the East with rosy light, We sip the furze-flower's fragrant dews Clad in robes of rainbow hues; Or sport amid the shooting gleams To the tune of distant-tinkling teams, While lusty Labour scouting sorrow Bids the Dame a glad good-morrow, Who jogs the accustom'd road along, And paces cheery to her cheering song.