A Hymn Svng As By The Shepheards.[36]

THE HYMN.

Chorvs.

Come, we shepheards, whose blest sight Hath mett Loue's noon in Nature's night; Come, lift we vp our loftyer song And wake the svn that lyes too long.

To all our world of well-stoln joy He slept; and dreamt of no such thing. While we found out Heaun's fairer ey And kis't the cradle of our King. Tell him He rises now, too late To show vs ought worth looking at.

Tell him we now can show him more Then he e're show'd to mortall sight; Then he himselfe e're saw before, Which to be seen needes not his light. Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been, Tell him Thyrsis, what th' hast seen.

TITYRUS.

Gloomy night embrac't the place Where the noble Infant lay. The Babe look't vp and shew'd His face; In spite of darknes, it was day. It was Thy day, Sweet! and did rise Not from the East, but from Thine eyes.

Chorus. It was Thy day, Sweet.

THYRSIS.

Winter chidde aloud, and sent The angry North to wage his warres. The North forgott his feirce intent, And left perfumes in stead of scarres. By those sweet eyes' persuasiue powrs Where he mean't frost, he scatter'd flowrs.

Chorus. By those sweet eyes.

BOTH.

We saw Thee in Thy baulmy-nest, Young dawn of our aeternall Day! We saw Thine eyes break from their East And chase the trembling shades away. We saw Thee; and we blest the sight, We saw Thee by Thine Own sweet light.

TITYRUS.

Poor world (said I), what wilt thou doe To entertain this starry Stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow? A cold, and not too cleanly, manger? Contend, the powres of Heau'n and Earth, To fitt a bed for this huge birthe?

Chorus. Contend the powers.

THYRSIS.

Proud world, said I, cease your contest And let the mighty Babe alone. The phaenix builds the phaenix' nest, Lov's architecture is his own. The Babe whose birth embraues this morn, Made His Own bed e're He was born.

Chorus. The Babe whose....

TITYRUS.

I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow, Come houering o're the place's head; Offring their whitest sheets of snow To furnish the fair Infant's bed: Forbear, said I; be not too bold, Your fleece is white but 'tis too cold.

Chorus. Forbear, sayd I.

THYRSIS.

I saw the obsequious Seraphims Their rosy fleece of fire bestow. For well they now can spare their wing, Since Heavn itself lyes here below. Well done, said I; but are you sure Your down so warm, will passe for pure?

Chorus. Well done, sayd I.

TITYRUS.

No, no! your King's not yet to seeke Where to repose His royall head; See, see! how soon His new-bloom'd cheek Twixt's mother's brests is gone to bed. Sweet choise, said we! no way but so Not to ly cold, yet sleep in snow.

Chorus. Sweet choise, said we.

BOTH.

We saw Thee in Thy baulmy nest, Bright dawn of our aeternall Day! We saw Thine eyes break from their East And chase the trembling shades away. We saw Thee: and we blest the sight, We saw Thee, by Thine Own sweet light.

Chorus. We saw Thee, &c.

FVLL CHORVS.

Wellcome, all wonders in one sight! Aeternity shutt in a span! Sommer in Winter, Day in Night! Heauen in Earth, and God in man! Great, little One! Whose all-embracing birth Lifts Earth to Heauen, stoopes Heau'n to Earth.

Wellcome, though not to gold nor silk, To more then Caesar's birth-right is; Two sister-seas of virgin-milk, With many a rarely-temper'd kisse, That breathes at once both maid and mother, Warmes in the one, cooles in the other. Shee sings Thy tears asleep, and dips Her kisses in Thy weeping eye; She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips, That in their buds yet blushing lye; She 'gainst those mother-diamonds, tries The points of her young eagle's eyes. Wellcome, though not to those gay flyes, Guilded i' th' beames of earthly kings; Slippery soules in smiling eyes; But to poor shepheards' home-spun things; Whose wealth's their flock; whose witt, to be Well-read in their simplicity. Yet when young April's husband-showrs Shall blesse the fruitfull Maja's bed, We'l bring the first-born of her flowrs To kisse Thy feet and crown Thy head. To Thee, dread Lamb! Whose loue must keep The shepheards, more then they the sheep.

To Thee, meek Majesty! soft King Of simple Graces and sweet Loves: Each of vs his lamb will bring, Each his pair of sylver doues: Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes, Ourselues become our own best sacrifice.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

In the SANCROFT MS. the heading is simply 'A Hymne of the Nativitie sung by the Shepheards.' It furnishes these various readings, though it wants a good deal of our text (1652):

Lines 1 to 4,

'who haue seene Daie's King deposed by night's Queene. Come lift we up our lofty song, To wake the sun that sleeps too long.'

" 5 to 7,

'Hee (in this our generall joy) Slept ... ... the faire-ey'd boy.'

" 24, 'Winter chid the world ...'

" 32, 'Bright dawne ...'

" 58 to 63,

'I saw the officious angells bring The downe that their soft breasts did strow: For well they now can spare their wings, When heauen itselfe lies here below. Faire youth (said I) be not too rough, Thy downe (though soft)'s not soft enough.'

'Officious' = ready to do good offices: 'obsequious' = obedient, eager to serve.

Lines 65 to 68,

'The Babe noe sooner 'gan to seeke Where to lay His louely head; But streight His eyes advis'd His cheeke 'Twixt's mother's breasts to goe to bed.'

" 79, 'Welcome to our wond'ring sight.'

" 83, 'glorious birth.'

" 85, 'not to gold' for 'nor to gold:' adopted.

" 96, 'points' = pupils (?).

Lines 101 to 103,

'But to poore shepheards' simple things, That vse not varnish; noe oyl'd arts, But lift cleane hands full of cleare hearts.'

" 108, '... while they feed the sheepe.'

" 114, 'Wee'l burne ...'

These variations agree with the text of 1646. See our Essay for critical remarks. G.