Peace, hoa, the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awaked!

9-v. 1.

Yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brows.

12. Thieves.-Sun, Moon, Earth, Sea, &c.

35-iii. 5.

The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea: the moon 's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
The sea 's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief;
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheck'd theft.
27-iv. 3.

The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven.

9-ii. 7.

Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic, and the Hellespont.

Well-apparell'd April on the heel

Of limping Winter treads.

37-iii. 3.

35-i. 2.

f A shepherd of Caria, who, for insolently soliciting Juno, was condemned to a sleep of thirty years; Luna visited him by night in a cave of Mount Latmus.

Reflection of the moon.

That strew the green lap of the new-come spring.

An envious sneapingh frost,

17-v. 2.

That bites the first-born infants of the spring. 8—i. 1.

The pleached bower,

Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter; like favourites,

Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against the power that bred it.

6-iii. 1.

That same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowrets' eyesi,
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.

22.

Summer.

7-iv. 1.

This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress, Nor coigne of vantagek, but this bird hath made His pendant bed, and procreant cradle: Where they Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air Is delicate.

This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself

Unto our gentle senses.

h Nipping.

15-i. 6.

15-i. 6.

i The eye of a flower is the technical term for its centre.

k Convenient corner.

The year growing ancient,

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter.

When icicles hang by the wall,

13-iv. 3.

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

8-v. 2.

Yon grey lines,

That fret the clouds, are messengers of day. 29-ii. 1.

27.

The same.

-The bat hath flown

His cloister'd flight;

The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums,

Hath rung night's yawning peal.

15-iii. 2.

Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger.

7-iii. 2.

The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,

Awake the god of day.

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat

36-i, 1.

The day begins to break, and night is fled,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. 21-ii. 2.

The morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness.

1-v. 1.

Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd.

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

5-iv. 2.

36-i. 5.

The wolves have prey'd: and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about

Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey'. 6—v. 3.

Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!—that dawning May dare the raven's eye.

Look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,

31-ii. 2.

Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 36—i. 1.

Look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 35—iii. 5.

The eastern gate, all fiery red,

Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.

7-iii. 2.

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,

From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,

And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty;

Who doth the world so gloriously behold,

That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. Poems.

40.

41.

The same.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin.

To ope their golden eyes.

Morning.

31-ii. 3.

See how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sunm!
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love!

This morning, like the spirit of a youth

23-ii. 1.

That means to be of note, begins betimes. 30—iv. 4.

And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 24—v. 3.

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
Now spurs the lated traveller apace,

To gain the timely inn.

15-iii. 3.

Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when

she dismisses him to his diurnal course.

U