. . . . . . . 'and disclose
. . . . . . the new-born rose.'
See our Essay for critical remarks. G.
TO THE MORNING:
SATISFACTION FOR SLEEPE.[77]
What succour can I hope my Muse shall send1
Whose drowsinesse hath wrong'd the Muses' friend?
What hope, Aurora, to propitiate thee,
Vnlesse the Muse sing my apologie?
O in that morning of my shame! when I5
Lay folded up in Sleepe's captivity,
How at the sight did'st thou draw back thine eyes,
Into thy modest veyle? how didst thou rise
Twice dy'd in thine owne blushes! and did'st run
To draw the curtaines, and awake the sun!10
Who, rowzing his illustrious tresses, came,
And seeing the loath'd object, hid for shame
His head in thy faire bosome, and still hides
Mee from his patronage; I pray, he chides:
And pointing to dull Morpheus, bids me take15
My owne Apollo, try if I can make
His Lethe be my Helicon: and see
If Morpheus have a Muse to wait on mee.
Hence 'tis, my humble fancie finds no wings,
No nimble rapture starts to Heaven, and brings20
Enthusiasticke flames, such as can give
Marrow to my plumpe genius, make it live
Drest in the glorious madnesse of a Muse,
Whose feet can walke the milky way, and chuse
Her starry throne; whose holy heats can warme25
The grave, and hold up an exalted arme
To lift me from my lazy vrne, to climbe
Vpon the stoopèd shoulders of old Time,
And trace Eternity—But all is dead,
All these delicious hopes are buried30
In the deepe wrinckles of his angry brow,
Where Mercy cannot find them: but O thou
Bright lady of the Morne! pitty doth lye
So warme in thy soft brest, it cannot dye.
Have mercy then, and when he next shall rise35
O meet the angry God, invade his eyes,
And stroake his radiant cheekes; one timely kisse
Will kill his anger, and revive my blisse.
So to the treasure of thy pearly deaw,
Thrice will I pay three teares, to show how true40
My griefe is; so my wakefull lay shall knocke
At th' orientall gates, and duly mocke
The early larkes' shrill orizons, to be
An anthem at the Daye's nativitie.
And the same rosie-finger'd hand of thine,45
That shuts Night's dying eyes, shall open mine.
But thou, faint God of Sleepe, forget that I
Was ever known to be thy votary.
No more my pillow shall thine altar be,
Nor will I offer any more to thee50
My selfe a melting sacrifice; I'me borne
Againe a fresh child of the buxome Morne,
Heire of the sun's first beames. Why threat'st thou so?
Why dost thou shake thy leaden scepter? goe,
Bestow thy poppy upon wakefull Woe,55
Sicknesse, and Sorrow, whose pale lidds ne're know
Thy downie finger; dwell upon their eyes,
Shut in their teares: shut out their miseries.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In 1646, line 1, for 'shall' reads 'will:' ib. in Harleian ms. as before, 'my' for 'the Muse;' which I adopt here, but not in next line: line 9, ib. 'thy:' line 11, illustrious is = lustrous, radiant: Harleian ms. as before, line 19, 'this my humble:' line 20, 1646 misprints 'raptures:' line 27, 1670 has 'and climb:' line 28, 1646 has 'stooped' for 'stooping' of 1648; infinitely superior, and therefore adopted: 1670 misprints 'stopped:' the Sancroft ms. has 'stooping:' line 45, Harleian ms. as before, 'thy altar.' Further: in the Sancroft ms. this poem is headed 'Ad Auroram Somnolentiæ expiatio. R. Cr.,' and it supplies these various readings: line 1, 'will:' line 7, 'call back:' line 16, 'my' for 'mine;' line 20-21, 'winge' and 'bringe:' line 40, 'treasures:' other orthographic differences only. See Essay, as in last poem. G.