I.

Hail to the morn that reigneth Where KAFF,[5] since time began Allah's eternal sentinel, Keeps watch upon the Sun; And through the realms of heaven, From his cold dwelling-place, Beholds the bright Archangel For ever face to face! KAFF smiles--the loosen'd morning On Asia is unfurl'd! Sind[6] flashes free, and rolls a sea Of amber down the world! Lo! how the purple thickets And arbours of Cashmere Beneath the kindling lustre A rosier radiance wear! Hail to the mighty Morning That, odorously cool, Comes down the nutmeg-gardens And plum-groves of Cabool! Cold 'mid the dawn, o'er GHAZNA, The rivall'd moon retires; As on the city spread below, Far through the sky's transparent glow, A hundred gold-roof'd temples throw Their crescents' sparkling fires.