ODE TO MORNING.
1 THE sprightly messenger of day
2 To Heaven ascending tunes the lay
3 That wakes the blushing morn:
4 Chear'd with th' inspiring notes, I rise
5 And hail the power, whose glad supplies
6 Th' enliven'd plains adorn.
7 Far hence retire, O Night! thy praise,
8 Majestic Queen! in nobler lays
9 Already has been sung:
10 When thine own spheres expire, thy name,
11 Secure from time, shall rise in fame,
12 Immortaliz'd by Young.
13 See, while I speak Aurora sheds
14 Her early honours o'er the meads,
15 The springing valley's smile;
16 With chearful heart the village-swain
17 Renews the labours of the plain,
18 And meets the accustom'd toil.
19 Day's monarch comes to bless the year,
20 Wing'd Zephyrs wanton round his car,
21 Along th' aethereal road;
22 Plenty and Health attend his beams,
23 And Truth, divinely bright, proclaims
24 The visit of the God.
25 Aw'd by the view, my soul reveres
26 The Great FIRST CAUSE that bade the spheres
27 In tuneful order move;
28 Thine is the sable-mantled Night,
29 Unseen Almighty! and the Light
30 The radiance of thy love.
31 Hark! the awaken'd grove repays
32 With melody the genial rays,
33 And Echo spreads the strain;
34 The streams in grateful murmurs run,
35 The bleating flocks salute the sun,
36 And music glads the plain.
37 While Nature thus her charms displays,
38 Let me enjoy the fragrant breeze
39 The opening flowers diffuse;
40 Temp'rance and Innocence attend,
41 These are your haunts, your influence lend,
42 Associates of the Muse!
43 Riot, and Guilt, and wasting Care,
44 And fell Revenge, and black Despair
45 Avoid the Morning's light;
46 Nor beams the sun, nor blooms the rose,
47 Their restless passions to compose,
48 Who Virtue's dictates slight.
49 Along the mead, and in the wood,
50 And on the margin of the flood
51 The Goddess walks confest:
52 She gives the landscape power to charm,
53 The sun his genial heat to warm
54 The wife and generous breast.
55 Happy the man! whose tranquil mind
56 Sees Nature in her changes kind,
57 And pleas'd the whole surveys;
58 For him the morn benignly smiles,
59 And evening shades reward the toils
60 That measure out his days.
61 The varying year may shift the scene,
62 The sounding tempest lash the main,
63 And Heaven's own thunders roll;
64 Calmly he views the bursting storm,
65 Tempests nor thunder can deform
66 The morning of his soul.