An HYMN to the MORNING. Mary Leapor Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T127827 p. 413 K101776.000 Leapor, Mrs. (Mary), 1722-1746. Poems upon several occasions: By Mrs. Leapor of Brackley in Northamptonshire. London printed: and sold by J. Roberts 1748 pp. 23-25. 15,[5],282p. ; 8⁰.

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An HYMN to the MORNING . I. SEE the lovely Morning rise , See her Glories paint the Skies , Half o'er the reviving Globe Gaily spreads her Saffron Robe : See the Hills with Flowers crown'd , And the Valleys laughing round . II . Mira to Aurora sings , While the Lark exulting springs High in Air — and tunes her Throat To a soft and merry Note ; The Goldfinch and the Linnet join : Hail Aurora , Nymph divine . III . See Clione's gilded Car , See it blazes from afar ; Here the fair One bends her Way , Balmy Zephyrs round her play ; Now she lights upon the Vale , Fond to meet the western Gale . IV . May this artless Praise be thine , Soft Clione half divine . See her snowy Hand she waves , Silent stand her waiting Slaves ; And while they guard the Silver Reins , She wanders lonely o'er the Plains . V. See those Cheeks of beauteous Dye , Lovely as the dawning Sky , Innocence that ne'er beguiles Lips that wear eternal Smiles : Beauties to the rest unknown , Shine in her and her alone . VI . Now the Rivers smoother flow , Now the op'ning Roses glow , The Woodbine twines her odorous Charms Round the Oaks supporting Arms : Lilies paint the dewy Ground , And Ambrosia breathes around . VII . Come , ye Gales that fan the Spring ; Zephyr , with thy downy Wing , Gently waft to Mira's Breast Health , Content , and balmy Rest . Far , O far from hence remain Sorrow , Care , and sickly Pain . VIII . Thus sung Mira to her Lyre , Till the idle Numbers tire : Ah ! Sappho sweeter sings , I cry , And the spiteful Rocks reply , ( Responsive to the jarring Strings ) Sweeter — Sappho sweeter sings .