Classic Poem

I

The Cock has crow'd an hour ago,
'Tis time we now dull sleep forgo;
Tir'd Nature is by sleep redress'd,
And Labour's overcome by Rest.

II

We have out-done the work of Night,
'Tis time we rise t'attend the Light,
And e'er he shall his Beams display,
To plot new bus'ness for the day.

III

None but the slothfull, or unsound,
Are by the Sun in Feathers found,
Nor, without rising with the Sun,
Can the World's bus'ness e'er be done.

IV

Hark! Hark! the watchfull Chanticler,
Tells us the day's bright Harbinger
Peeps o'er the Eastern Hills, to awe
And warn night's sov'reign to withdraw.

V

The Morning Curtains now are drawn,
And now appears the blushing dawn;
Aurora has her Roses shed,
To strew the way Sol 's steeds must tread.

VI

Xanthus and Æthon harness'd are,
To roll away the burning Carr,
And, snorting flame, impatient bear
The dressing of the Chariotier.

VII

The sable Cheeks of sullen Night
Are streak'd with Rosie streams of light,
Whilst she retires away in fear,
To shade the other Hemisphere.

VIII

The merry Lark now takes her wings,
And long'd-for days loud wellcome sings,
Mounting her body out of sight,
As if she meant to meet the light.

IX

Now doors and windows are unbar'd,
Each-where are chearfull voices heard,
And round about Good-morrows fly,
As if Day taught Humanity.

X

The Chimnies now to smoke begin,
And the old Wife sits down to spin,
Whilst Kate , taking her Pail, does trip
Mulls swoln and strad'ling Paps to strip.

XI

Vulcan now makes his Anvil ring,
Dick whistles loud, and Maud doth sing,
And Silvio with his Bugle Horn
Winds an Imprime unto the Morn.

XII

Now through the morning doors behold
Phaebus array'd in burning Gold,
Lashing his fiery Steeds, displays
His warm and all enlight'ning Rays.

XIII

Now each one to his work prepares,
All that have hands are Labourers,
And Manufactures of each trade
By op'ning Shops are open laid.

XIV

Hob yokes his Oxen to the Team,
The Angler goes unto the stream,
The Wood-man to the Purlews hies,
And lab'ring Bees to load their thighs.

XV

Fair Amarillis drives her Flocks,
All night safe folded from the Fox,
To flow'ry Downs, where Collin stays,
To courTher with his Roundelays.

XVI

The Traveller now leaves his Inn
A new days Journey to begin,
As he would post it with the day,
And early rising makes good way.

XVII

The slick-fac'd School-boy Sachel takes,
And with slow pace small riddance makes;
For why, the haste we make, you know,
To Knowledge and to Vertue's slow.

XVIII

The Fore-horse gingles on the Road,
The Waggoner lugs on his Load,
The Field with busie People snies,
And City rings with various cries.

XIX

The World is now a busie swarm,
All doing good, or doing harm;
But let's take heed our Acts be true,
For Heaven's eye sees all we doe.

XX

None can that piercing sight evade,
It penetrates the darkest shade,
And sin, though it could scape the eye,
Would be discover'd by the Cry.