THE Star that bids the Shepherd fold

    Now the top of Heav'n doth hold

    And the gilded Car of Day

    His glowing Axle doth allay

    In the steep Atlantick stream

    And the slope Sun his upward beam

    Shoots against the dusky Pole

    Pacing toward the other gole

    Of his Chamber in the East.

    Mean while welcom Joy and Feast

    Midnight shout and revelry

    Tipsie dance and Jollity.

    Braid your Locks with rosie Twine

    Dropping odours dropping Wine.

    Rigor now is gon to bed

    And Advice with scrupulous head

    Strict Age and sowre Severity

    With their grave Saws in slumber ly.

    We that are of purer fire

    Imitate the Starry Quire

    Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears

    Lead in swift round the Months and Years.

    The Sounds and Seas with all their finny drove

    Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move

    And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves

    Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves；

    By dimpled Brook and Fountain brim

    The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim

    Their merry wakes and pastimes keep：

    What hath night to do with sleep？

    Night hath better sweets to prove

    Venus now wakes and wak'ns Love……

    Com knit hands and beat the ground

    In a light fantastick round.