'Hymn I, Of Astraea' by Sir John Davies

Poetry

Hymn I, Of Astraea

*Sir John Davies (from Hymns of Astraea, 1599)*

Early before the day doth spring Let us awake, my Muse, and sing, It is no time to slumber: So many joys this time doth bring As time will fail to number. But whereto shall we bend our lays? Even up to heaven, again to raise The maid which, thence descended, Hath brought again the golden days And all the world amended. Rudenesse it self she doth refine, Even like an alchemist divine, Gross times of iron turning Into the purest form of gold, Not to corrupt till heaven wax old, And be refined with burning.


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