The next Quantity and Quality spake in prose, then Relation was called by his name Rivers arise; whether thou be the son . Of utmost Tweed, or Oose, or gulphy Dun, Or coaly Tine, or ancient hallow'd Dee, Or Humber loud that keeps the Scythian's name, [The rest was prose.] III. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. (Composed 1629.) THIS is the month, and this the happy morn, That he our deadly forfeit should release, That glorious form, that light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, 95 100 Wherewith he wont at Heav'n's high council-table 10 He laid aside; and here with us to be, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 15 Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, Now while the Heav'n by the sun's team untrod, 20 bright? See how from far upon the eastern road O run, prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, 25 From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire. THE HYMN. It was the winter wild, While the Heav'n-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in awe to him Had doff'd her gaudy trim, 30 With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her 35 To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, And on ner naked shame, 40 She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing, 50 And, waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and laud. No war, or battle's sound, Was heard the world around: The idle spear and shield were high up hung, 53 The hooked chariot stood, Unstain'd with hostile blood, The trumpet spake not to the armed throng And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by 28. Isaiah vi. 6, 7. 82. She strikes ; so the Latin, fœdus ferire. SEVERAL OCCASIONS. But peaceful was the night, Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began: The winds with wonder whist Smoothly the waters kiss'd, Whisp'ring new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. And though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, 80 As his inferior flame The new enlighten'd world no more should need; He saw a greater sun appear [bear. Than his bright throne, or burning axle-tree could Was kindly come to live with them below; 90 Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook, Divinely warbled voice Answering the stringed noise, 95 As all their souls in blissful rapture took: The air such pleasure loth to lose, [close. With thousand echoes still prolongs each heav'nly Nature that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat, the aery region thrilling, Now was almost won 101 To think her part was done, 105 And that her reign had here its last fulfilling; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, 110 That with long beams the shame-faced night arThe helmed cherubim And sworded seraphim, [ray'd; Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, Harping in loud and solemn quire, 115 With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir. Such music (as 'tis said) Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung, And cast the dark foundations deep, 120 And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep. Ring out, ye crystal spheres, 125 Once bless our human ears (If ye have power to touch our senses so), And let your silver chime Move in melodious time, And let the base of Heav'n's deep organ blow, 130 And with your ninefold harmony, Make up full concert to th' angelic symphony. For if such holy song Inwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of Gold, 135 And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould, And Hell itself will pass away, 139 And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day Yea, Truth and Justice then Will down return to men, Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, 145 With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering, And Heav'n as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. But wisest Fate says no, This must not yet be so, 150 The babe lies yet in smiling infancy That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss; And wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swindges the scaly horror of his folded tail. The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, 176 With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. 173. In allusion to the opinion that the oracles ceased |