Awake, mine eyes, see Phoebus bright arising
Awake, mine eyes! see Phoebus bright arising,
And lesser lights to shades obscure descending.
Glad Philomel sits, tunes of joy devising,
Whilst in sweet notes
From warbling throats
The sylvan choir
With like desire
To her are echoes sending.
And lesser lights to shades obscure descending.
Glad Philomel sits, tunes of joy devising,
Whilst in sweet notes
From warbling throats
The sylvan choir
With like desire
To her are echoes sending.
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