Treasure Island

George Gascoigne

(1535 – 7 October 1577 / Cardington, Bedfordshire)

The Night is Near Gone


HEY! now the day dawis;
The jolly cock crawis;
Now shroudis the shawis
   Thro' Nature anon.
The thissel-cock cryis
On lovers wha lyis:
Now skaillis the skyis;
   The nicht is neir gone.

The fieldis ouerflowis
With gowans that growis,
Quhair lilies like low is
   As red as the rone.
The turtle that true is,
With notes that renewis,
Her pairty pursuis:
   The nicht is neir gone.

Now hairtis with hindis
Conform to their kindis,
Hie tursis their tyndis
   On ground quhair they grone.
Now hurchonis, with hairis,
Aye passis in pairis;
Quhilk duly declaris
   The nicht is neir gone.

The season excellis
Through sweetness that smellis;
Now Cupid compellis
   Our hairtis echone
On Venus wha waikis,
To muse on our maikis,
Syne sing for their saikis--
   'The nicht is neir gone!'

All courageous knichtis
Aganis the day dichtis
The breist-plate that bright is
   To fight with their fone.
The stoned steed stampis
Through courage, and crampis,
Syne on the land lampis:
   The nicht is neir gone.

The freikis on feildis
That wight wapins weildis
With shyning bright shieldis
   At Titan in trone;
Stiff speiris in reistis
Ouer corseris crestis
Are broke on their breistis:
   The nicht is neir gone.

So hard are their hittis,
Some sweyis, some sittis,
And some perforce flittis
   On ground quhile they grone.
Syne groomis that gay is
On blonkis that brayis
With swordis assayis:--
   The nicht is neir gone.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003

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