Awake, awake, the morn will never rise, The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, Who look for day before his mistress wakes; William D'Avenant [1606-1668] MATIN-SONG From "The Rape of Lucrece" PACK, clouds, away, and welcome, day, To give my Love good-morrow Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast, Give my fair Love good-morrow! To give my Love good-morrow Thomas Heywood [ ? -1650?] THE ROSE SWEET, serene, sky-like flower, Haste to adorn the bower; Shoot forth thy damask head. Mary Morison New-startled blush of Flora, (Who will contest no more), Vermilion ball that's given Haste, haste to make her bed. Dear offspring of pleased Venus See! rosy is her bower, Her floor is all this flower Her bed a rosy nest By a bed of roses pressed. But early as she dresses, Because her cheeks are near. 697 Richard Lovelace [1618-1658] SONG SEE, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes! And now the sun begins to rise; Less glorious is the morn that breaks With light united, day they give; How many by his warmth will live! How many will her coldness kill! J William Congreve [1670-1729] MARY MORISON O MARY, at thy window be, It is the wished, the trysted hour! That make the miser's treasure poor: How blithely wad I bide the stour The lovely Mary Morison! Yestreen, when to the trembling string I sat, but neither heard nor saw: O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, If love for love thou wiltna gie, A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison. Robert Burns [1759-1796] WAKE, LADY! UP! quit thy bower! late wears the hour, O'er flower and tree loud hums the bee, And the wild kid sports merrily. Up! maiden fair, and bind thy hair, Waste not these hours, so fresh and gay; Up! Time will tell the morning bell "The Young May Moon The aged crone keeps house alone, Lo! while thou sleep'st they haste away! Joanna Baillie [1762-1851] THE SLEEPING BEAUTY SLEEP on, and dream of Heaven awhile-- And move, and breathe delicious sighs! Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Her fair hands folded on her breast: how like a saint she sleeps! -And now, A seraph in the realms of rest! Sleep on secure! Above control Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee: And may the secret of thy soul Remain within its sanctuary! Samuel Rogers [1763-1855] "C THE YOUNG MAY MOON" THE Young May moon is beaming, love, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, More glorious far Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, Or in watching the flight. Of bodies of light He might happen to take thee for one, my dear! Thomas Moore [1779-1852) "ROW GENTLY HERE" Row gently here, My gondolier, So softly wake the tide, That not an ear, On earth, may hear, But hers to whom we glide. Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well Oh think what tales 'twould have to tell Now rest thee here, My gondolier; Hush, hush, for up I go, To climb yon light Balcony's height, While thou keep'st watch below. Ah! did we take for Heaven above But half such pains as we Take, day and night, for woman's love, Thomas Moore [1779–1852] MORNING SERENADE AWAKE! the dawn is on the hills! Behold, at her cool throat a rose, |