The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

THE PARADISE OF CABUL.

On, who Cabul's sweet region may behold,

When spring laughs out, or autumn sows her gold,

The

Nor

That

meadows, orchards, streams that glide in light,

deem lost Irem charms again his sight;

wondrous garden rivalling Eden's bloom,

Too blessed for man to view, this side the tomb?

Flowers here, of every scent and form and dye,

Lift their bright heads, and laugh upon the sky,

From the tall tulip with her rich streaked bell,

Where throned in state, Queen Mab is proud to dwell, To lowly wind-flowers gaudier plants eclipse. lips. And pensile harebells with their dewy There turns the heliotrope to court

When days were dark and all the world went wrong,

Nor any heart was left for prayer and song, When bitter memory, o'er and o'er again,

Revolved the wrongs endured from fellow-men;

And showed how hopes decayed and bore no fruit,

And He who placed us here was deaf and mute!

If then we turned on God in angry wise,

And scorned his dealings with reproachful eyes Questioned his goodness, and in foolish wrath,

Called hope a lie and ridiculed our faith,

Did we not find, in such an evil hour, That far within us dwelt this loving Power?

No wrathful God within, to smite us down, [frown; Or turn his face away with angry But in the bitter heart, a smile began, Grew, all at once, within, and upward ran,

Broke out upon the face-and, for awhile,

Despite all bitterness, we had to smile!

foot beyond, and nothing left but Love!

And when the soul its mortal fears resigns,

[shines!

Because God's spirit that within us lay, [away! Simply rose up, and smiled our wrath The perfect world of love around it

When every thing that is sincerely Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
good
Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,

And perfectly divine,

With truth, and peace, and love, shall And love to live in dimple sleek,

ever shine

About the supreme throne

Of him, to whose happy-making sight alone

When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb,

Then, all this earthy grossness quit, Attired with stars, we shall forever sit,

Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time.

L'ALLEGRO.

HENCE, loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight
born,

In Stygian cave forlorn,
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks,
and sights unholy!

Find out some uncouth cell,

Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings,

And the night raven sings;

Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides,
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right hand lead with
thee

The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty;
And, if I give thee honor due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreprovèd pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine
Or the twisted eglantine;
While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn-door.
Stoutly struts his dames before:
Oft listening how the hounds and
horn

Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,

There under ebon shades and low- From the side of some hoar hill,

browed rocks,

As ragged as thy locks,

Through the high wood echoing shrill:

In dark Cimmerian desert ever Some time walking, not unseen,

By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great sun begins his state,
Robed in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries
dight;

While the ploughman near at hand
Whistles o'er the furrowed land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his scythe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new
pleasures

Whilst the landskip round it meas

ures;

Russet lawns and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whose barren breast
The laboring clouds do often rest,

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