L'Allegro

 HENCE loathèd Melancholy

    Of Cerberus and #CCCCFFest 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；

    There under ebon shades and low-brow'd rocks

    As ragged as thy locks

    In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell！

    But come thou Goddess fair and free

    In heaven yclept Euphrosyne

    And by men heart-easing Mirth

    Whom lovely Venus at a birth

    With two sister Graces more

    To ivy-crownèd Bacchus bore；

    Or whether （as some sager sing）

    The frolic wind that breathes the spring

    Zephyr with Aurora playing

    As he met her once a-Maying—

    There on beds of violets blue

    And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew

    Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair

    So buxom blithe and debonair.

    Haste thee Nymph and bring with thee

    Jest and youthful jollity

    Quips and cranks and wanton wiles

    Nods and becks and wreathèd smiles

    Such as hang on Hebe's cheek

    And love to live in dimple sleek；

    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 honour 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-brier 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

    From the side of some hoar hill

    Through the high wood echoing shrill：

    Sometime walking not unseen

    By hedgerow 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 furrow'd 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 landscape round it measures；

    Russet lawns and fallows gray

    Where the nibbling flocks do stray；

    Mountains on whose barren breast

    The labouring clouds do often rest；

    Meadows trim with daisies pied

    Shallow brooks and rivers wide；

    Towers and battlements it sees

    Bosom'd high in tufted trees

    Where perhaps some Beauty lies

    The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.

    Hard by a cottage chimney smokes

    From betwixt two aged oaks

    Where Corydon and Thyrsis met

    Are at their savoury dinner set

    Of herbs and other country messes

    Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses；

    And then in haste her bower she leaves

    With Thestylis to bind the sheaves；

    Or if the earlier season lead

    To the tann'd haycock in the mead.

    Sometimes with secure delight

    The upland hamlets will invite

    When the merry bells ring round

    And the jocund rebecks sound

    To many a youth and many a maid

    Dancing in the chequer'd shade；

    And young and old come forth to play

    On a sunshine holy-day

    Till the livelong daylight fail.

    Then to the spicy nut-brown ale

    With stories told of many a feat

    How Faery Mab the junkets eat：—

    She was pinch'd and pull'd she said；

    And he by Friar's lantern led；

    Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat

    To earn his cream-bowl duly set

    When in one night ere glimpse of morn

    His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn

    That ten day-labourers could not end；

    Then lies him down the lubber fiend

    And stretch'd out all the chimney's length

    Basks at the fire his hairy strength；

    And crop-full out of doors he flings

    Ere the first cock his matin rings.

    Thus done the tales to bed they creep

    By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep.

    Tower'd cities please us then

    And the busy hum of men

    Where throngs of knights and barons bold

    In weeds of peace high triumphs hold

    With store of ladies whose bright eyes

    Rain influence and judge the prize

    Of wit or arms while both contend

    To win her grace whom all commend.

    There let Hymen oft appear

    In saffron robe with taper clear

    And pomp and feast and revelry

    With mask and antique pageantry；

    Such sights as youthful poets dream

    On summer eves by haunted stream.

    Then to the well-trod stage anon

    If Jonson's learned sock be on

    Or sweetest Shakespeare Fancy's child

    Warble his native wood-notes wild.

    And ever against eating cares

    Lap me in soft Lydian airs

    Married to immortal verse

    Such as the meeting soul may pierce

    In notes with many a winding bout

    Of linkèd sweetness long drawn out

    With wanton heed and giddy cunning

    The melting voice through mazes running

    Untwisting all the chains that tie

    The hidden soul of harmony；

    That Orpheus' self may heave his head

    From golden slumber on a bed

    Of heap'd Elysian flowers and hear

    Such strains as would have won the ear

    Of Pluto to have quite set free

    His half-regain'd Eurydice.

    These delights if thou canst give

    Mirth with thee I mean to live.