CHAPTEB V, 



PARTRIDGE SHOOTING. 



Loiterer rise ! the morn hath kept 

 For thee her orient pearls unwept ; 

 Haste, and take them, while the light 

 Hangs on the dew-locks of the night. 

 See ! Aurora throws her fair 

 Fresh-tinted colours through the air. 

 Come forth ! come forth ! 'tis very sin 

 Arid profanation to keep in ! 

 There's joy and gladness in the skies ; 

 Loiterer ! from thy couch arise ! 



Our life is short, our moments run 

 Swift as the coursers of the sun ; 

 And, like the vapour or the rain, 

 Once lost, can ne'er be traced again ! 

 Each flow'r hath wept and eastward bow'd ; 

 The skylark, far above the cloud, 

 To hymn his song of praise, is fled ; 

 And all the birds their matins said : 

 There's joy and gladness in the skies ; 

 Loiterer ! from thy couch arise ! 



