This is more like an old washerwoman than a young goddess. Ovid calls her rutilis Aurora capillis. And again—
Ut solet aër
Purpureus fieri, primum Aurora movetur.
I translate "purpureus fieri," a fiery purple. What says Virgil of that particoloured damsel——
Tithoni croceum liquens Aurora cubile.
A golden bed, by the way, is but a poor atonement for a leaden old spouse snoring in it.
Lucia thinks happiness consists in state,
She weds an ideot, but she eats off plate.
The moderns have been equally fanciful in describing Aurora. An old song says——
The morning was up gray as a rat,
The clock struck something, faith I can't tell what.
And Rosina now says, "see the rosy morn appearing;" and now "the morn returns in saffron dress'd."—Selim in Blue Beard, sings, "Gray-eyed morn begins to peep," his is no compliment to the beauty of the goddess. If she had changed colours with the magician, it would have been well; a gray beard is fit for an old man, and blue eyes for a young woman.
And now, reader, "make way for the speaker."—The scene draws, and discovers a room of state, containing, the King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, Lords, and Attendants. This is the first appearance of Hamlet.—Here, then, we must suppose a clapping of hands, and a cry of hats off—down—down—you will therefore fancy to yourself a young gentleman, arrayed in black velvet, with a plume of sable feathers in his bonnet, big enough for the fore-horse of Ophelia's hearse. But as in a certain assembly, if a member, however elevated in rank, rise to speak late in the evening, he sets his hearers coughing, there being no pectoral lozenge equal to an early harangue; and, as touching the Lord Hamlet in that manner, would be touching the honour of a prince, I shall keep his royal highness as a bonne bouche to open my next dissertation.