THE HYMN. I. It was the winter wild, While the heaven-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; 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 paramour. II. Only with speeches fair To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, 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 His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; And, waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. IV. 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 sovran Lord was by. 60 50 40 330 V. But peaceful was the night His reign of peace upon the earth began. 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 charmèd wave. VI. The stars, with deep amaze, Bending one way their precious influence, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warned 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-enlightened world no more should need: He saw a greater Sun appear Than his bright throne or burning axletree could bear. 70 80 VIII. The shepherds on the lawn, Or ere the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they than That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below: 90 Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, When such music sweet IX. Their hearts and ears did greet 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 heavenly close. 99 X. 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 Heaven and Earth in happier union. XI. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shamefaced Night arrayed; The helmèd cherubim And sworded seraphim Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, Harping in loud and solemn quire, With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir. XII. 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 weltering waves their oozy channel keep. ΠΟ 120 XIII. Ring out, ye crystal spheres ! If ye have power to touch our senses so; Move in melodious time; And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow; And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. For, if such holy song XIV. Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold; Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould; And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. XV. Yea, Truth and Justice then Will down return to men, Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering; And Heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. 130 140 XVI. But wisest Fate says No, The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy Must redeem our loss, So both himself and us to glorify: Yet first, to those ychained in sleep, 150 The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep, XVII. With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake : 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. 160 XVIII. And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is, But now begins; for from this happy day The Old Dragon under ground, In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway, And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. 170 XIX. The Oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving. Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathèd spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. 180 XX. The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring, and dale Edged with poplar pale, The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. |