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Her that dares be
What these lines wish to see;
I seek no further, it is She.
"Tis She, and here,
Lo! I unclothe and clear
My wishes' cloudy character.
May she enjoy it
Whose merit dare apply it,
But modesty dares still deny it!
Such worth as this is
Shall fix my flying wishes,
And determine them to kisses.
Let her full glory,
My fancies, fly before ye;
Be ye my fictions:-but her story.
QUEM VIDISTIS PASTORES, ETC.
A HYMN OF THE NATIVITY, SUNG BY THE SHEPHERDS
COME, we shepherds whose blest sight
Come lift we up our loftier song,
And wake the sun that lies too long.
To all our world of well-stol'n joy
He slept, and dreamt of no such thing,
Tell him we now can show him more
Which to be seen needs not his light:
Gloomy night embraced the place
The babe looked up, and showed His face;
It was Thy day, sweet, and did rise,
Not from the East, but from Thine eyes. Chorus. It was Thy day, sweet, and did rise, Not from the East, but from Thine eyes.
Winter chid aloud, and sent
The angry North to wage his wars :
The North forgot his fierce intent,
And left perfumes instead of scars.
By those sweet eyes' persuasive powers, Where he meant frosts he scattered flowers. Chorus. By those sweet eyes' persuasive powers, Where he meant frosts he scattered flowers.
We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest,
Young dawn of our eternal day;
Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do
Is this the best thou canst bestow
A cold and not too cleanly manger?
To fit a bed for this huge birth.
Chorus. Contend the powers of heaven and earth To fit a bed for this huge birth.
Proud world, said I, cease your contest,
The phoenix builds the phoenix' nest,
The babe, whose birth embraves this morn,
Chorus. The babe, whose birth embraves this morn,
I saw the curled drops, soft and slow,
Forbear, said I, be not too bold,
Your fleece is white, but 'tis too cold.
I saw th' obsequious seraphim
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow,
For well they now can spare their wings,
Since Heaven itself lies here below.
Well done, said I; but are you sure
Your down, so warm, will pass Chorus. Well done, said I; but are you sure Your down, so warm, will pass for pure?
No, no, your King's not yet to seek
Chorus. Sweet choice, said we; no way but so,
Welcome all wonders in one sight!
Heaven in earth! and God in man!
Great little one, whose all-embracing birth
Welcome, tho' nor to gold, nor silk,
To more than Cæsar's birthright is Two sister seas of virgin's milk,
With many a rarely-tempered kiss,
That breathes at once both maid and mother, Warms in the one, cools in the other.
She sings Thy tears asleep, and dips
Welcome-tho' not to those gay flies,
But to poor shepherds, homespun things, Whose wealth's their flocks, whose wit's to be Well read in their simplicity.
Yet, when young April's husband show'rs
We'll bring the first-born of her flowers,
To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King
Each his pair of silver doves!
At last, in fire of Thy fair eyes,
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice!