While the Heav'n-born-childe
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies；
Nature in aw to him
Had doff't her gawdy trim
With her great Master so to sympathize：
It was no season then for her
To wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour.
Only with speeches fair
She woo's the gentle Air
To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow
And on her naked shame
Pollute with sinfull blame
The Saintly Vail of Maiden to throw
Confounded that her Makers eyes
Should look so neer upon her foul deformities.
But he her fears to cease
Sent down the meek-eyd Peace
She crown'd with Olive green came softly sliding
Down through the turning sphear
His ready Harbinger
With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing
And waving wide her mirtle wand
She strikes a universall Peace through Sea and Land.
No War or Battails sound
Was heard the World around
The idle spear and shield were high up hung；
The hookèd Chariot stood
Unstain'd with hostile blood
The Trumpet spake not to the armèd throng
And Kings sate still with awfull eye
As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
But peacefull was the night
Wherin the Prince of light
His raign of peace upon the earth began：
The Windes with wonder whist
Smoothly the waters kist
Whispering new joyes to the milde Ocean
Who now hath quite forgot to rave
While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmeèd wave.
The Stars with deep amaze
Stand fixt in stedfast gaze
Bending one way their pretious influence
And will not take their flight
For all the morning light
Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence；
But in their glimmering Orbs did glow
Untill their Lord himself bespake and bid them go.
And though the shady gloom
Had given day her room
The Sun himself with-held his wonted speed
And hid his head for shame
As his inferiour flame
The new enlightn'd world no more should need；
He saw a greater Sun appear
Then his bright Throne or burning Axletree could bear.
The Shepherds on the Lawn
Or ere the point of dawn
Sate simply chatting in a rustick row；
Full little thought they than
That the mighty Pan
Was kindly com to live with them below；
Perhaps their loves or els their sheep
Was all that did their silly thoughts so busie keep.
When such musick sweet
Their hearts and ears did greet
As never was by mortall finger strook
Divinely-warbled voice
Answering the stringèd noise
As all their souls in blisfull rapture took
The Air such pleasure loth to lose
With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close.
Nature that heard such sound
Beneath the hollow round
Of Cynthia's seat the Airy region thrilling
Now was almost won
To think her part was don
And that her raign 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
That with long beams the shame-fac't night array'd
The helmèd Cherubim
And sworded Seraphim
Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaid
Harping in loud and solemn quire
With unexpressive notes to Heav'ns new-born Heir.
Such musick （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-ballanc't world on hinges hung
And cast the dark foundations deep
And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.
Ring out ye Crystall sphears
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'ns deep Organ blow
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full consort to th'Angelike symphony.
For if such holy Song
Enwrap our fancy long
Time will run back and fetch the age of gold
And speckl'd vanity
Will sicken soon and die
And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould
And Hell it self will pass away
And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
Yea Truth and Justice then
Will down return to men
Th'enameld Arras of the Rain-bow wearing
And Mercy set between
Thron'd in Celestiall sheen
With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing
And Heav'n as at som festivall
Will open wide the Gates of her high Palace Hall.
But wisest Fate sayes no
This must not yet be so
The Babe lies yet in smiling Infancy
That on the bitter cross
Must redeem our loss；
So both himself and us to glorifie：
Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep
The wakefull trump of doom must thunder through the deep
With such a horrid clang
As on mount Sinai rang
While the red fire and smouldring clouds out brake：
The agèd Earth agast
With terrour of that blast
Shall from the surface to the center shake；
When at the worlds last session
The dreadfull Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne.
And then at last our bliss
Full and perfect is
But now begins； for from this happy day
Th'old Dragon under ground
In straiter limits bound
Not half so far casts his usurpèd sway
And wrath to see his Kingdom fail
Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail.
The Oracles are dumm
No voice or hideous humm
Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine
With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance or breathèd spell
Inspire's the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.
The lonely mountains o're
And the resounding shore
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament；
From haunted spring and dale
Edg'd with poplar pale
The parting Genius is with sighing sent
With flowre-inwov'n tresses torn
The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
In consecrated Earth
And on the holy Hearth
The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint
In Urns and Altars round
A drear and dying sound
Affrights the Flamins at their service quaint；
And the chill Marble seems to sweat
While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat
Peor and Baalim
Forsake their Temples dim
With that twise-batter'd god of Palestine
And moonèd Ashtaroth
Heav'ns Queen and Mother both
Now sits not girt with Tapers holy shine
The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn
In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.
And sullen Moloch fled
Hath left in shadows dred
His burning Idol all of est hue
In vain with Cymbals ring
They call the grisly king
In dismall dance about the furnace blue；
The brutish gods of Nile as fast
Isis and Orus and the Dog Anubis hast.
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian Grove or Green
Trampling the unshowr'd Grasse with lowings loud：
Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest
Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud
In vain with Timbrel'd Anthems dark
The sable-stolèd Sorcerers bear his worshipt Ark.
He feels from Juda's Land
The dredded Infants hand
The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn；
Nor all the gods beside
Longer dare abide
Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine：
Our Babe to shew his Godhead true
Can in his swadling bands controul the damnèd crew.
So when the Sun in bed
Curtain'd with cloudy red
Pillows his chin upon an Orient wave
The flocking shadows pale
Troop to th'infernall jail
Each fetter'd Ghost slips to his severall grave
And the blue-skirted Fayes
Fly after the Night-steeds leaving their Moon-lov'd maze.
But see the Virgin blest
Hath laid her Babe to rest.
Time is our tedious Song should here have ending
Heav'ns youngest teemèd Star
Hath fixt her polisht Car
Her sleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending：
And all about the Courtly Stable
Bright-harnest Angels sit in order serviceable.