And all within were paths and alleys wide,
With footing worn, and leading inward far;
Far harbour that them seems: so in they enter’d are.
‘And forth they pass, with pleasure forward led,
Joying to hear the birds’ sweet harmony,
Which therein shrowded from the tempest’s dread,
Seem’d in their song to scorn the cruel sky.
Much can they praise the trees so straight and high,
The sailing pine, the cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry,