Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,
From the side of some hoar hill, 55
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
[Sometime walking, not unseen],
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green,
Right [against] the eastern gate
Where the great Sun begins his state, 60
Robed in flames and amber light,
[The clouds in thousand liveries dight];
While the ploughman, near at hand,