And dawnlight purples o’er the glade—
And while the sev’ring vapours flee,
The Lascar boy looks chearfully!
X.
And now the Sun begins to rise
Above the Eastern summit blue;
And o’er the plain the day-breeze flies,
And sweetly bloom the fields of dew!
The wand’ring wretch was chill’d, for he
Sate, shiv’ring in the tall Elm tree;