O'er all his brethren he shall reign as king, And peace shall lull him in her flowery lap; What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not [The next, Quantity and Quality, spake in prose, then RIVERS, arise!' whether thou be the son Or coaly Tine; or ancient hallowed Dee; Or Humber loud, that keeps the Scythian's name III. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. Composed 1629.2 I. THIS is the month, and this the happy morn, that 1 In invoking these rivers, Milton had his eye particularly upon admirable episode in Spenser of the marriage of the Thames and the Medway, where the several rivers are introduced in honour of the cere mony.-Newton. 2 When Milton was twenty-one years old. Of wedded maid, and virgin mother born, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. II. That glorious form, that light unsufferable, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table He laid aside; and here with us to be, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. III. Say, heavenly muse, shall not thy sacred vein Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, Now while the Heaven, by the sun's team untrod, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? IV. See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet: Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.' While the Heaven-born child All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies: Nature in awe to him Had doffed her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. 1 Alluding to Is. vi. 6, 7. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air II. To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw, Confounded, that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities But he, her fears to cease, III. Sent down the meek-eyed Peace; She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing, And waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes an universal peace' through sea and land. No war, or battle's sound, IV. Was heard the world around: The idle spear and shield were high up hung; Unstained with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the arméd throng, And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. But peaceful was the night V Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began: The winds with wonder whist2 Smoothly the waters kissed, Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charméd wave The stars with deep amaze Stand fixed in stedfast gaze, VI. Bending one way their precious influence, And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; 1 "Strikes peace," a Latinism, fœdus ferire. 2 Silent. But in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. VII. And though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new enlightened world no more should need; He saw a greater sun appear Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear. VIII. The shepherds on the lawn, Or e'er the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they then, That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. When such music sweet IX. Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook, Divinely-warbled voice Answering the stringéd noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took: The air, such pleasure loth to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. X. Nature that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling,1 Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. XI. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shame-faced night arrayed; The helméd cherubim, 1 Piercing. And sworded seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, Harping in loud and solemn quire, With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir. Such music (as 'tis said) Before was never made, XII. But when of old the sons of morning sung,1 While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung, And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. XIII. Ring out, ye crystal spheres, 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 Heaven's deep organ blow And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, XIV. Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould, And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. XV. Yea, Truth and Justice then Will down return to men, Orbed in a rainbow; and like glories wearing Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering, And Heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. 1 Job xxxviii. 7. 2 This is the author's own correction. He had originally written "The enamelled arras of the rainbow wearing; And Mercy sit between," &c. |