I.

THE GOLDEN TREASURY.

BOOK SECOND.

LXXXV.

ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.

THIS is the month, and this the happy morn
Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring;
For so the holy sages once did sing

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That he our deadly forfeit should release,

And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.

That glorious Form, that light unsufferable,
And that far-beaming blaze of Majesty

Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table

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He laid aside; and, here with us to be,

To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,

Forsook the courts of everlasting day,

And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.

Say, heavenly 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,

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Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod,

Hath took no print of the approaching light,

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And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?

See how from far, upon the eastern road,

The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet:

O run, prevent them with thy humble ode

And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;

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.

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It was the winter wild

THE HYMN.

While the heaven-born Child

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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 sympathize:

It was no season then for her

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To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.

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

His ready harbinger,

With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;

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And waving wide 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 uphung;
The hookéd chariot stood

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Unstain'd 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.

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Who now hath quite forgot to rave,

While birds of calm sit brooding on the charméd wave.

Until their 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

Than his bright throne, or burning axletree could bear.

The shepherds on the lawn

Or ere the point of dawn

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Sate simply chatting in a rustic row;

Full little thought they than

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 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.

Nature that heard such sound

Beneath the hollow round

Now was almost won

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Of Cynthia's seat the aery region thrilling,

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.

At last surrounds their sight

A globe of circular light

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