And in Time's long and dark prospective glass And Peace shall lull him in her flow'ry lap; To harbour those that are at enmity. What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot? The next Quantity and Quality spake in prose; then, Relation was call'd 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, Or Medway smooth, or royal-tower'd Thame. [The rest was prose.] III. On the Morning of Christ's Nativity. I. THIS is the month, and this the happy morn, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. II. That glorious form, that light unsufferable, 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. Say, heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, IV. See how from far upon the eastern road While the Heav'n-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in awe to him Had dofft 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. Only with speeches fair 11. She wooes the gentle Air 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. III. But he, her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-ey'd Peace; She crown'd 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. IV. No war, or battel's sound 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, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. V. 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 kist, Whisp'ring new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, [wave. While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed 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. 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-enlighten'd world no more should need; He saw a greater sun appear [bear. Than his bright throne, or burning axletree could 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. |