GOOD MORROW, A SONG.
Fly, night, away!
And welcome day!
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air, blow soft,
Sunshine aloft,
To give my love good morrow!
Wings from the wind
To please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Lark, stretch thy wing,
And tow'ring sing,
To give my love good morrow!
Ye violets blue,
Sweet drops of dew,
That shine in every furrow,
Fresh odours fling
On zephyr's wing,
To give my love good morrow!
Bright Venus, spare
Awhile thy car,
Thy Cupid, dove, and sparrow,
To waft my fair,
Like my own star,
To give the world good morrow!
G.R.
The great Duke of Marlborough, who was, perhaps, the most accomplished gentleman of his age, would never suffer any approaches to obscenity in his presence; and it was said, by Lord Cobham, that he did not reprove it as an immorality in the speaker, but resented it as an indignity to himself; and it is evident, that to speak evil of the absent, to utter lewdness, blasphemy, or treason, must degrade not only him who speaks, but those who hear; for surely that dignity of character, which a man ought always to sustain, is in danger, when he is made the confidant of treachery, detraction, impiety, or lust; for he who in conversation displays his own vices, imputes them; as he who boasts of a robbery to another, presupposes that he is a thief.—Hawkesworth.
Silence in love bewrays more woe
Than words, tho' ne'er so witty;
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.
Sir W. Raleigh.