DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.2056#0283
125 THE FOUR TlMIS OF THE DAY.
Is now, the grey Aurora-, then, the meek-eyed
morn; arrayed in a dewy robe, with saffron stream-
ers, placed in a glittering chariot bespangled with
dew-drops, and drawn by ethereal coursers; where,
holding the reins with her red hands, she drives
the day.
These heathenish descriptions may be very
beautiful in their way; but hear our own Shak-
speare,
" Night's tapers are burnt out> and jocund day
*' Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain's top."
Again,
«* The glow-worm shews the matin to be near,
" And 'gins to pale her ineffectual fire."
This is picturesque,—poetical!—intelligible to
the peasant or the philosopher, to the classic ad-
mirer of ancient mythology, or the man who never
heard that the gates which Aurora unbars, are
made of purest chrystal.
The pictures drawn by Homer, and all the long
list of etceteras who have debased his splendid
images by the mixture of their own dross, have
their scenes laid in the country; but Hogarth has
represented his dramatis persona in the centre of
a great city. Had the learned author of Hudibras
been a painter, I believe be would have done the
same. It will not be easy to select two lines that
have more wit, than his description of the morn-
ing:
Is now, the grey Aurora-, then, the meek-eyed
morn; arrayed in a dewy robe, with saffron stream-
ers, placed in a glittering chariot bespangled with
dew-drops, and drawn by ethereal coursers; where,
holding the reins with her red hands, she drives
the day.
These heathenish descriptions may be very
beautiful in their way; but hear our own Shak-
speare,
" Night's tapers are burnt out> and jocund day
*' Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain's top."
Again,
«* The glow-worm shews the matin to be near,
" And 'gins to pale her ineffectual fire."
This is picturesque,—poetical!—intelligible to
the peasant or the philosopher, to the classic ad-
mirer of ancient mythology, or the man who never
heard that the gates which Aurora unbars, are
made of purest chrystal.
The pictures drawn by Homer, and all the long
list of etceteras who have debased his splendid
images by the mixture of their own dross, have
their scenes laid in the country; but Hogarth has
represented his dramatis persona in the centre of
a great city. Had the learned author of Hudibras
been a painter, I believe be would have done the
same. It will not be easy to select two lines that
have more wit, than his description of the morn-
ing: