When now no more th' alternate  are fir'd,
And  reddens with the solar blaze,
Short is the doubtful empire of the night;
And soon, observant of approaching day,
The meek-ey'd morn appears, mother of dews!
At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east:
Till far o'er aether shoots the trembling glow;
And, from before the lustre of her face,
White break the clouds away. With tardy step,
Brown night retires. Young day pours in apace,
And opens all the lawny prospect wide.
The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top
Swell on the eye, and brighten with the dawn.
Blue thro' the dusk the smoaking currents shine;
And from the bladed field the fearful hare
Limps aukward; while along the forest glade
The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze
At early passenger. Musick awakes,
The native voice of undissembled joy;
And thick around the woodland hymns arise.
Rous'd by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves
His mossy cottage, where with  he dwells;
And from the crowded fold in order drives
His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn.