A Sibyl old, bow-bent with crooked age, 70 75 85 What pow'r, what force, what mighty spell, if not Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot?"90 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 Trent, who, like some earth-born giant, spreads His thirty arms along th' indented meads; Or sullen Mole, that runneth underneath; Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death; Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lee, Or coaly Tine, or ancient hallow'd Dee; Or Humber loud, that keeps the Scythian's name; [The rest was prose.] 100 III. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. Composed 1629. I. THIS is the month, and this the happy morn, That he our deadly forfeit should releasé, IL. That glorious form, that light unsufferable, 5 Wherewith he wont at Heav'n's high council-table 10 To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, He laid aside; and, here with us to be, Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. III. Say, heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, Now while the Heav'n, by the sun's team untrod, 13 Hath took no print of the approaching light, 20 And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? 12 IV. See, how from far, upon the eastern road, Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel quire, From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire. 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, With her great Master so to sympathise: It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She wooes 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. 25 She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere, His ready harbinger, 30 35 40 45 With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; 50 And, waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes an universal peace through sea and land. Nor war, or battle's sound IV. Was heard the world around: The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood, Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, 55 As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by. 60 V. But peaceful was the night, His reign of peace upon the earth began: Smoothly the waters kist, Whisp'ring new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, 65 While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. VI. The stars, with deep amaze, Stand fix'd in stedfast gaze, Bending one way their precious 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, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. VIL. 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 70 75 The new-enlighten'd world no more should need; He saw a greater sun appear 80 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 stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took: The air, such pleasure loth to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heav'nly close. X. 100 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 done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union. XI. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, 105 110 That with long beams the shame-fac'd night array'd; The helmed cherubim, And sworded seraphim, 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. |