Up! Quit thy bower, late wears the hour
Long have the rooks, caw'd round the tower;
On flower and tree lood hums the bee
The wilding kid sports merrily
A day so bright, so fresh, so clear
Shines sweetly when good fortune's near

Up! Lady fair, and braid thy hair
And rouse thee in the breezy air;
The lulling stream, that sooth'd thy dream
Is dancing in the sunny beam:
And hours so sweet, so bright, so gay
Wil waft good fortune on its way

Up! Time will tell, the friar's bell
Its service sound hath chimed well;
The aged crone keeps house alone
And reapers to the fields are gone:
The active day so boon, so bright
May bring good fortune ere the night