O Deck The Fairy Of The Mines: In Short, A Crown All Glorious--Such As Love Orders When He Makes A Duchess. But See, 'Tis Morn In Heaven; The Sun Up In The Bright Orient Hath Begun To Canter His Immortal Beam; And, Tho' Not Yet Arrived In Sight, His Leaders' Nostrils Send A Steam Of Radiance Forth, So Rosy Bright As Makes Their Onward Path All Light. What's To Be Done? If Sol Will Be So Deuced Early, So Must We: And When The Day Thus Shines Outright, Even Dearest Friends Must Bid Good Night. So, Farewell, Scene Of Mirth And Masking, Now Almost A By-Gone Tale; Beauties, Late In Lamp-Light Basking, Now, By Daylight, Dim And Pale; Harpers, Yawning O'Er Your Harps, Scarcely Knowing Flats From Sharps; Mothers Who, While Bored You Keep Time By Nodding, Nod To Sleep; Heads Of Hair, That Stood Last Night Cr'P', Crispy, And Upright, But Have Now, Alas, One Sees, A Leaning Like The Tower Of Pisa; Fare Ye Will--Thus Sinks Away All That's Mighty, All That's Bright: Tyre And Sidon Had Their Day, And Even A Ball--Has But Its Night!