[For music, see p. [61]]
Wake, Aurora, Wake!
Come, rosy-fingered goddess of the dawn,
The saffron couch of old Tithonus scorning;
Fling wide the golden portals of the morning,
And bid the gloomy mists of night be gone.
Hail, Aurora, Hail!
The dewy stars have sped their silent flight,
The fuller glories of thy rays expecting;
With rosy beauty from afar reflecting,