But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Shaks. Hamlet.
The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of
light;

And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's fiery wheels.
Shaks. Romeo and Juliet.

Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops.
Shaks. Romeo and Juliet.

But soft! what light through yonder window

breaks!

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Shaks. Romeo and Juliet.

See, how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm'd like a yonker, prancing to his love!
Shaks. Henry VI. Part III
The silent hours steal on,

And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
Shaks. Richard III.

This morning, like the spirit of a youth
That means to be of note, begins betimes.
Shaks. Antony and Cleopatra.

The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.
Shaks. Much Ado about Nothing.
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;

At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,

Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all, That in crossways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone.

Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream. When the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, In murders, and in outrage, bloody hire; But when from under this terrestrial ball, He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, And darts his light through every guilty hole, Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, The cloak of night being pluck'd from off thei backs,

Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves Shaks. Richard []

How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.

Jonson's Catiline. Yet hath the morning sprinkled through the clouds But half her tincture; and the sail of night Sticks still upon the bosom of the air.

Chapman's Humorous Day's Mirth. Is not yon gleam the shudd'ring morn that lakes, With silver tincture, the east verge of heaven? Marston's Antonio and Melida. See the dapple grey coursers of the morn, Beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs, And chase it through the sky.

Marston's Antonio and Melida.
Now 'gins the fair dew-dabbling blushing morn
To open to the earth heav'n's eastern gates,
Displaying, by degrees, the new-born-light,
The stars have trac'd their dance; and unto night
Now bid good-night:

The young day's sentinel, the morning-star,
Now drives before him all his glitt'ring flock,
And bids them rest within the fold unseen;
Till with his whistle Hesperus calls them forth.
Now Titan up, and ready, calls aloud,
And bids the rolling hours bestir them quick,
And harness up his prancing foaming steeds,
To hurry out the sun's bright chariot:
O now I hear their trampling feet approach!
Now, now I see that glorious lamp to dart
His nearer beams, and all be-paint with gold
The over-peeping tops of highest hills.

Hawkings's Apollo Shroving. Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Milton's May Morning. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.

Milton's Paradise Lost. |

Milton's Paradise Lost. Thus pass'd the night so foul, till morning fair Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice grey. Milton's Paradise Regained. The birds,

Who all things now behold more fresh and green,
After a night of storm so ruinous,
Clear'd up their choicest notes in bush and spray,
To gratulate the sweet return of morn.

Milton's Paradise Regained

See Aurora puts on her crimson blush,
And with resplendent rays gilds o'er the top
Of yon aspiring hill! the pearly dew
Hangs on the rose-bud's top; and, knowing it
Must be anon exhal'd, for sorrow shrinks
Itself into a tear.

Lewis Sharp's Noble Stranger
The rosy-finger'd morn did there disclose
Her beauty, ruddy as a blushing bride,
Gilding the marigold, painting the rose,
With Indian chrysolites her cheeks were dy'd.

The sun had long since, in the lap
Of Thetis, taken out his nap,
And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn
From black to red began to turn.

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Butler's Hudibres
Sullen, methinks, and slow the morning breaks,
As if the sun were listless to appear,
And dark designs hang heavy on the day.
Dryden's Duke of Guiss

The morning lark, the messenger of day,
Saluted in her song the morning grey;
And soon the sun arose with beams so bright,
That all th' horizon laugh'd to see the joyous sight;
He with his tepid rays the rose renews,
And licks the dropping leaves, and dries the dews
Dryden's Palamon and Arcite.
Now from night's womb the glorious day breaks
forth,

And seems to kindle from the setting stars.
Lee's Lucius Junius Brutus.

The turnkey now his flock returning sees,
Duly let out at nights to steal for fees;
The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands,
And school-boys lag with satchels in their hands.
Swift.

See! the night wears away, and cheerful morn,
All sweet and fresh, spreads from the rosy east;
Fair nature seems reviv'd, and e'en my heart
Sits light and jocund at the day's return.

Rowe's Royal Convert. The morning lowers, and heavily in clouds Brings on the day, the great, the important day, Big with the fate of Cato and of Rome.

Addison's Cato.
At length the world, renew'd by calm repose,
Was strong for toil, the dappled morn arose.
Parnell's Hermit.

But now the clouds in airy tumults fly;
The sun emerging opes the azure sky;
A fresher green the smiling leaves display,
And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day.
Parnell's Hermit.

Hail to the joyous day! with purple clouds
The whole horizon glows. The breezy spring
Stands loosely floating on the mountain-top,
And deals her sweets around. The sun too seems,
As conscious of my joy, with brighter beams,
To gild the happy world

Thomson's Sophonisba.
See, how at once the bright effulgent sun,
Rising direct, swift chases from the sky
The short-liv'd twilight; and with ardent blaze
Looks gaily fierce o'er all the dazzling air.

Thomson's Seasons. The lengthen'd night elaps'd, the morning shines Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright, Unfolding fair the last autumnal day. And now the morning sun dispels the fog; The rigid hoar-frost melts before his beam; And hung on every spray, on every blade Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. Thomson's Seasons.

Now flaming up the heavens, the potent sun
Melts into limpid air the light-rais'd clouds,
And morning fogs, that hover'd round the hills,
In party-colour'd bands; till wide unveil'd
The face of nature shines, from where earth seems
Far stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere.
Thomson's Seasons.

The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews
At first faint glimmering in the dappled east;
Till far o'er ether spreads the wid'ning glow;
And, from before the lustre of her face,
White break the clouds away. With quicken'd
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 sight, and brighten with the dawn.
Thomson's Seasons,

Hence every harsher sight! for now the day
O'er heaven and earth diffus'd, grows warm and
high;

Infinite splendour! wide investing all.

Thomson's Seasons. O'er yonder eastern hill the twilight pale Walks forth from darkness; and the god of day, With bright Astræa seated by his side, Waits yet to leave the ocean.

Akenside.

The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell;
The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried
In the lone valley, echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean tide;
The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Beattie's Minstrel.

Day takes his daily turn,
Rising between the gulfy dells of night,
Like whiten'd billows on a gloomy sea.

Joanna Baillie's Orra Day glimmer'd in the east, and the white moon Hung like a vapour in the cloudless sky.

Rogers's Itaty

Day dawns, the twilight gleam dilates, The sun comes forth, and, like a god, Rides through rejoicing heaven.

Southey's Thavana

Far in the chambers of the west,
The gale had sighed itself to rest;
The moon was cloudless now and clear
But pale and soon to disappear.

The thin grey clouds waxed dimly light
On Brusleton and Houghton height,
And the rich dale, that eastward lay,
Waited the wakening touch of day,
To give its woods and cultured plain,
And towers and spires, to light again.

men.

The sun, awakening, through the smoky air
Of the dark city casts a sullen glance,
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care,
Of sinful man the sad inheritance;
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance;
Scaring the prowling robber to his den;
Gilded on battled tower the warder's lance;
And warning student pale to leave his pen,
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of
Scott's Lady of the Lake.
What various scenes, and, O! what scenes of woe,
Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam!
The fevered patient, from his pallet low,
Through crowded hospital beholds it stream;
The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam,
The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail,
The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream;
The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale,
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his
feeble wail. Scott's Lady of the Lake.

Blest power of sunshine! genial day!
What balm, what life is in thy ray;
To feel thee is such real bliss,
That had the world no joy but this,
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet-
It were a world too exquisite
For man to leave it for the gloom,
The deep, cold shadow of the tomb.

Moore's Lalla Rookh. But mighty nature bounds as from her birth, The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth; Flowers in the valley, splendour in the beam, Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream. Byron's Lara. Night wanes the vapours round the mountains curl'd

And now the first faint tokens of the dawn
Show'd in the east. The bright and dewy star
Whose mission is to usher in the morn,
Look'd through the cool air like a blessed thing
In a far purer world. I had wak'd
From a long sleep of many changing dreams,
And now in the fresh forest air I stood
Nerv'd to another day of wandering.

Percival's Poems

Throw up the window! 'Tis a morn for life
In its most subtle luxury. The air
Is like a breathing from a rarer world;
And the south wind is like a gentle friend,
Parting the hair so softly on my brow.
It has come over gardens, and the flowers
That kiss'd it are betray'd; for as it parts,
With its invisible fingers my loose hair,
I know it has been trifling with the rose,
And stooping to the violet. There is joy
For all God's creatures in it.

Willis's Poems.

I had awoke from an unpleasant dream,
And light was welcome to me. I look'd out
To feel the common air, and when the breath
Of the delicious morning met my brow,
Cooling its fever, and the pleasant sun
Shone on familiar objects, it was like
The feeling of the captive who comes forth
From darkness to the cheerful light of day.
Willis's Poems

Wake, slumberer! morning's golden hours
Are speeding fast away;

The sun has wak'd the opening flowers,

To greet the new-born day,
The deer leaps from his leafy haunt;
Fair gleams the breezy lake;
The birds their matin carols chaunt-
All Nature cries, awake!

Epes Sargent.

'Tis beautiful, when first the dewy light Breaks on the earth! while yet the scented air Is breathing the cool freshness of the night, And the bright clouds a tint of crimson wear. Elizabeth M. Chandler.