ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; Down through the turning sphere, His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; And waving wide her myrtle wand, Full little thought they then That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, 795 She strikes a universal peace through sea and Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy land. Nor war, or battle's sound, Was heard the world around The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, keep. When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet As never was by mortal finger strook- Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took; The air, such pleasure loath to lose, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by. With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly But peaceful was the night Wherein the prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began; Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, wave. The stars with deep amaze Bending one way their precious influence; Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; But in their glimmering orbs did glow close. Nature, that heard such sound Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling, To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling; Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. She knew such harmony alone At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shamefaced night arrayed; The helmed cherubim And sworded seraphim Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, Harping in loud and solemn choir, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them With unexpressive notes, to heaven's new-born 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-enlightened world no more should need; He saw a greater sun appear 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, Than his bright throne or burning axle-tree could And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel bear. The shepherds on the lawn, Or e'er the point of dawn, keep. Ring out, ye crystal spheres! Once bless our human ears, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic day. Yea, truth and justice then cell. Will down return to men, Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, 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, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering; The parting genius is with sighing sent; And heaven, 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 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 ye chained in sleep With flower-inwoven tresses torn The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The lares and lemures moan with midnight plaint; In urns and altars round A drear and dying sound Affrights the flamens at their service quaint; The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted the deep, With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, seat. Peor and Baälim Forsake their temples dim, While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake; With that twice-battered god of Palestine; The aged earth, aghast With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the centre shake When, at the world's last session, And mooned Ashtaroth, Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn The dreadful judge in middle air shall spread his In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz throne. mourn. And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread But see the virgin blest Hath laid her babe to rest Epiphany. BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid! Star of the east, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid! Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining; Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall; Angels adore Him in slumber reclining Maker, and monarch, and Saviour of all. Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gold would His favor secure ; Richer by far is the heart's adoration, Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Messiah. YE nymphs of Solyma, begin the song — Time is our tedious song should here have ending; Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies! Heaven's youngest teemed star Hath fixed her polished car, The ethereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move, Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attend- And on its top descends the mystic dove. ing; And all about the courtly stable JOHN MILTON. Ye heavens, from high the dewy nectar pour, |