ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 269 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. It was the winter wild THE HYMN. While the heaven-born Child 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 To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woos 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, crown'd 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. No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around: 270 ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. The idle spear and shield were high up hung; Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the arméd throng; 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: Smoothly the waters kist Whispering new joys to the mild oceán— Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charméd wave. 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. 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 ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 271 Sate 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- 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 Of Cynthia's seat the aery 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. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light That with long beams the shamefaced night array'd; And sworded Seraphim Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, Harping in loud and solemn quire With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir. Such music (as 'tis said) Before was never made 272 ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 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. Ring out, ye crystal spheres! Once bless our human ears, If ye have power to touch our senses so; And let your silver chime Move in melodious time; And let the base of heaven's deep organ blow; Make up full conceit to the angelic symphony. For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, 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. 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 Heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. But wisest Fate says No; ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 273 The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy 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 outbrake: The aged Earth aghast With terror of that blast Shall from the surface to the centre shake, When, at the world's last sessión, 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 The old Dragon, under ground In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway; And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swindges the scaly horrour of his folded tail. The oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the archéd roof in words deceiving: Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving: Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. The lonely mountains o'er And the resounding shore Elder Poets. 18 |