Aubade

THE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest,

And climbing shakes his dewy wings.

He takes this window for the East,

And to implore your light he sings--

Awake, awake! the morn will never rise

Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.

The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,

The ploughman from the sun his season takes;

But still the lover wonders what they are

Who look for day before his mistress wakes.

Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn!

Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!

William Davenant

A Song

O THOU that sleep'st like pig in straw,

Thou lady dear, arise;

Open (to keep the sun in awe)

Thy pretty pinking eyes:

And, having stretched each leg and arm,

Put on your clean white smock,

And then I pray, to keep you warm,

A petticoat or dock.

Arise, arise! Why should you sleep

When you have slept enough?

Long since, French boys cried Chimney-sweep,

And damsels Kitchen-stuff.

The shops were opened long before,

And youngest prentice goes

To lay at's master's chamber-door

His master's shining shoes.

Arise, arise! your breakfast stays,

Good water-gruel warm,

Or sugar-sops, which Galen says

With mace, will do no harm.

Arise, arise! when you are up

You'll find more to your cost,

For morning's draught in caudle-cup,

Good nutbrown ale, and toast.

William Davenant