HYMN ON THE NATIVITY It was the winter wild, While the heaven-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature, in awe of him, Had doffed her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty para mour. Only with speeches fair 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. But he, her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyed Peace: She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere, With turtle wing the amorous clouds di viding; 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 hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign lord was by. But peaceful was the night, Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth be gan: The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kissed, Whispering 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, Bending one way their precious influence; And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer had often warned them thence; But in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. And though the shady gloom The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new-enlightened 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, 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 fingers strook, Divinely warbled voice Answering the stringèd noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took: The air, such pleasure loath to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly 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 done, And that her reign had here its last ful filling; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shame-faced night arrayed; The helmed cherubim, And sworded seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, |