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THE NATIVITY.

But he her fears to cease,

Sent down the meek-eyed Peace;

She crown'd with olive green, came swiftly sliding Down through the turning sphere

His ready harbinger,

With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing,
And waving with her myrtle wand,

She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.

No war, or battle'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.

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,

While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.

The stars with deep amaze,

Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,

Bending one way their precious influence,

THE NATIVITY.

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 the 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,

As his inferior flame

The new enlighten'd world no more should need;

He saw a greater sun appear

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Than his bright throne, or burning axletree could bear.

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,

Their hearts and ears did greet,

As never was by mortal finger strook,

Divinely-warbled voice

Answering the stringed noise,

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THE NATIVITY.

As all their souls in blissful rapture took :

The air such pleasure loth to lose

With thousand echoes still prolongs each heav'nly close.

Nature that heard such sound,

Beneath the hollow round

Of Cynthia's seat, the acry 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.

At last surrounds their sight

A globe of circular light,

That with long beams the shamefaced night array'd; The helmed cherubim

The sworded seraphim

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, Harping in loud and solemn quire

With unexpressive notes to heav'n'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,

And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep.

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Ring out, ye crystal spheres,

Once bless our humble ears,

(If ye have power to touch our senses so) And let your silver chime

Move in melodious time,

And let the bass of heav'n's deep organ blow, 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, And speckled Vanity

Will sicken soon and die,

And leprous Sin will melt with earthly mould,

And Hell itself will pass away,

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,

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,

The babe lies yet in smiling infancy,

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THE

NATIVITY.

That on the bitter cross

Must redeem our loss;

So both himself and us to glorify:

Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep,

The wakeful trump of Doom must thunder through the deep

With such a horrid clang

As on Mount Sinai rang,

While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbreak ;

The aged earth, aghast,

With terror of that blast,

Shall from the surface to the centre shake:

When at the world's last session,

The dreadful 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 underground

In straiter limits bound,

Not half so far casts his usurped sway,

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,

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.

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