O PERFECT Light, which shaid away
by Alexander Hume
The darkness from the light,
And set a ruler o'er the day,
Another o'er the night--
Thy glory, when the day forth flies,
More vively doth appear
Than at mid day unto our eyes
The shining sun is clear.
The shadow of the earth anon
Removes and drawis by,
While in the East, when it is gone,
Appears a clearer sky.
Which soon perceive the little larks,
The lapwing and the snipe,
And tune their songs, like Nature's clerks,
O'er meadow, muir, and stripe.
Our hemisphere is polisht clean,
And lighten'd more and more,
While everything is clearly seen
Which seemit dim before:
Except the glistering astres bright,
Which all the night were clear,
Offuskit with a greater light
No longer do appear.
The golden globe incontinent
Sets up his shining head,
And o'er the earth and firmament
Displays his beams abread.
For joy the birds with boulden throats
Against his visage sheen
Take up their kindly musick notes
In woods and gardens green.
The dew upon the tender crops,
Like pearlis white and round,
Or like to melted silver drops,
Refreshis all the ground.
The misty reek, the clouds of rain,
From tops of mountains skails,
Clear are the highest hills and plain,
The vapours take the vales.
The ample heaven of fabrick sure
In cleanness does surpass
The crystal and the silver pure,
Or clearest polisht glass.
The time so tranquil is and still
That nowhere shall ye find,
Save on a high and barren hill,
An air of peeping wind.
All trees and simples, great and small,
That balmy leaf do bear,
Than they were painted on a wall
No more they move or steir.
Calm is the deep and purple sea,
Yea, smoother than the sand;
The waves that weltering wont to be
Are stable like the land.
So silent is the cessile air
That every cry and call
The hills and dales and forest fair
Again repeats them all.
The flourishes and fragrant flowers,
Through Phoebus' fostering heat,
Refresht with dew and silver showers
Cast up an odour sweet.
The cloggit busy humming bees,
That never think to drone,
On flowers and flourishes of trees
Collect their liquor brown.
The Sun, most like a speedy post
With ardent course ascends;
The beauty of the heavenly host
Up to our zenith tends.
The burning beams down from his face
So fervently can beat,
That man and beast now seek a place
To save them from the heat.
The herds beneath some leafy tree
Amidst the flowers they lie;
The stable ships upon the sea
Tend up their sails to dry.
With gilded eyes and open wings
The cock his courage shows;
With claps of joy his breast he dings,
And twenty times he crows.
The dove with whistling wings so blue
The winds can fast collect;
Her purple pens turn many a hue
Against the sun direct.
Now noon is went; gone is midday,
The heat doth slake at last;
The sun descends down West away,
For three of clock is past.
The rayons of the sun we see
Diminish in their strength;
The shade of every tower and tree
Extendit is in length.
Great is the calm, for everywhere
The wind is setting down;
The reek throws right up in the air
From every tower and town.
The gloming comes; the day is spent;
The sun goes out of sight;
And painted is the occident
With purple sanguine bright.
Our west horizon circular
From time the sun be set
Is all with rubies, as it were,
Or roses red o'erfret.
What pleasure were to walk and see,
Endlong a river clear,
The perfect form of every tree
Within the deep appear.
O then it were a seemly thing,
While all is still and calm,
The praise of God to play and sing
With cornet and with shalm!
All labourers draw home at even,
And can to other say,
Thanks to the gracious God of heaven,
Which sent this summer day.