four lines, line 4, 1648, reads noticeably
'That Kingdome which Thy blessed death did merit.'
The allusion in st. iv. is to the old reading of Psalm xcvi. 10: 'Tell
it among the heathen that the Lord reigneth from _the tree_.' The
reference to Solomon points to the mediaeval mystical interpretations of
Canticles iii. 9-10.
I place 'Vexilla Regis' immediately after the 'Office of the Holy
Crosse,' as really belonging to it, and not to be separated as in 1648.
G.
[THE LORD SILENCES HIS QUESTIONERS.][29]
'Neither durst any man from that day aske Him any more questions.'
_St. Matthew_ xxii.
Mid'st all the darke and knotty snares, 1
Black wit or malice can, or dares,
Thy glorious wisedome breaks the nets,
And treds with uncontrouled steps;
Thy quell'd foes are not onely now 5
Thy triumphs, but Thy trophies too:
They both at once Thy conquests bee,
And Thy conquests' memorie.
Stony amazement makes them stand
Wayting on Thy victorious hand, 10
Like statues fixed to the fame
Of Thy renoune, and their own shame,
As if they onely meant to breath
To be the life of their own death.
'Twas time to hold their peace, when they 15
Had ne're another word to say;
Yet is their silence unto Thee,
The full sound of Thy victorie;
Their silence speaks aloud, and is
Thy well pronounc'd panegyris. 20
While they speak nothing, they speak all
Their share, in Thy memoriall.
While they speake nothing, they proclame
Thee, with the shrillest trump of Fame.
To hold their peace is all the wayes 25
These wretches have to speak Thy praise.
OUR B[LESSED] LORD IN HIS CIRCUMCISION TO HIS FATHER.[30]
1. To Thee these first-fruits of My growing death 1
(For what else is My life?), lo! I bequeath:
2. Tast this, and as Thou lik'st this lesser flood
Expect a sea; My heart shall make it good.
3. Thy wrath that wades here now, e're long shall swim, 5
The floodgate shall be set wide ope for Him.
4. Then let Him drinke, and drinke, and doe His worst
To drowne the wantonnesse of His wild thirst.
5. Now's but the nonage of My paines, My feares
Are yett but hopes, weake as my infant yeares. 10
6. The day of My darke woe is yet but morne,
My teares but tender, and My death new-borne.
7. Yet may these unfledg'd griefes give fate some guesse,
These cradle-torments have their towardnesse.
8. These purple buds of blooming death may bee, 15
Erst the full stature of a fatall tree.
9. And till My riper woes to age are come,
This knife may be the speare's praeludium.
ON THE WOUNDS OF OUR CRUCIFIED LORD.[31]
O, these wakefull wounds of Thine! 1
Are they mouthes? or are they eyes?
Be they mouthes, or be they eyne,
Each bleeding part some one supplies.
Lo! a mouth! whose full-bloom'd lips 5
At too dear a rate are roses:
Lo! a blood-shot eye! that weeps,
And many a cruell teare discloses.
O, thou that on this foot hast laid
Many a kisse, and many a teare; 10
Now thou shalt have all repaid,
What soe're thy charges were.
This foot hath got a mouth and lips
To pay the sweet summe of thy kisses;
To pay thy teares, an eye that weeps, 15
Instead of teares, such gems as this is.
The difference onely this appeares,
(Nor can the change offend)
The debt is paid in ruby-teares
Which thou in pearles did'st lend. 20
VPON THE BLEEDING CRUCIFIX: A SONG.[32]
I.
IIESU, no more! It is full tide:
From Thy head and from Thy feet,
From Thy hands and from Thy side
All the purple riuers meet.
II.
What need Thy fair head bear a part
In showres, as if Thine eyes had none?
What need they help to drown Thy heart,
That striues in torrents of it's own?
III.
Water'd by the showres they bring,
The thornes that Thy blest browe encloses
(A cruell and a costly spring)
Conceiue proud hopes of proving roses.
IV.
Thy restlesse feet now cannot goe
For vs and our eternall good,
As they were euer wont. What though?
They swimme, alas! in their own floud.
V.
Thy hand to giue Thou canst not lift;
Yet will Thy hand still giuing be.
It giues, but O itself's the gift:
It giues though bound; though bound 'tis free.
VI.
But O Thy side, Thy deep-digg'd side!
That hath a double Nilus going:
Nor euer was the Pharian tide
Half so fruitfull, half so flowing.
VII.
No hair so small, but payes his riuer
To this Red Sea of Thy blood;
Their little channells can deliuer
Somthing to the generall floud.
VIII.
But while I speak, whither are run
All the riuers nam'd before?
I counted wrong: there is but one;
But O that one is one all ore.
IX.
Rain-swoln riuers may rise proud,
Bent all to drown and overflow;
But when indeed all's ouerflow'd,
They themselues are drowned too.
X.
This Thy blood's deluge (a dire chance,
Dear Lord, to Thee) to vs is found
A deluge of deliuerance;
A deluge least we should be drown'd. _lest_
N'ere wast Thou in a sense so sadly true,
The well of liuing waters, Lord, till now.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
The title in 1646 is 'On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Lord:' in
1648 has 'body' for 'wounds:' in 1670 as 1646. I record these
variations, &c.:
St. i. lines 2 and 3, in 1646 and 1670 read
'From Thy hands and from Thy feet,
From Thy head and from Thy side.'
So the SANCROFT MS.
St. ii. In 1646 and 1670 this stanza is the 5th, and in line 2 has
'teares' for 'showres.'
St. iii. This stanza, by some strange oversight, is wholly dropped in
1652. St. iii. not in SANCROFT MS., and our st. ii. is the last. On one
of the fly-leaves of the copy of 1646 edition in Trinity College,
Cambridge, is the following contemporary MS. epigram, which embodies the
sentiment of the stanza:
'_In caput Xti spinis coronatum._
Cerno Caput si Christe tuum mihi vertitur omne
In spinis illud, quod fuit ante rosa.'
Turnbull gives the stanza, but misplaces it after our st. vi.,
overlooking that our st. ii. is in 1646 edition st. v.
St. iv. line 1: in 1646 and 1670 'they' for 'now.'
Line 3, ib. 'as they are wont'--evident inadvertence, as 'ever' is
required by the measure.
Line 4, ib. 'blood' for 'floud:' so also in 1648.
St. v. line 1, ib. 'hand' for 'hands:' 'hand' in 1648, and in SANCROFT
MS.: adopted. Line 4, 'dropps' in SANCROFT MS. for 'gives.'
St. vi. line 3. Our text (1652) prints 'pharian,' the Paris printer
spelling (and mis-spelling) without comprehending the reference to
Pharaoh.
St. vii. line 1, in 1646 and 1670 'not a haire but ...'
St. ix. line 3, in 1648 a capital in 'All's.' G.
TO THE NAME ABOVE EVERY NAME, THE NAME OF IESVS:
A HYMN.[33]
In Vnitate Devs Est
Numisma Vrbani 6.
I sing the name which none can say 1
But touch't with an interiour ray:
The name of our new peace; our good:
Our blisse: and supernaturall blood:
The name of all our liues and loues. 5
Hearken, and help, ye holy doues!
The high-born brood of Day; you bright
Candidates of blissefull light,
The heirs elect of Loue, whose names belong
Vnto the euerlasting life of song; 10
All ye wise sovles, who in the wealthy brest
Of this vnbounded name, build your warm nest.
Awake, my glory, Sovl (if such thou be,
And that fair word at all referr to thee),
Awake and sing, 15
And be all wing;
Bring hither thy whole self; and let me see
What of thy parent Heavn yet speakes in thee.
O thou art poore
Of noble powres, I see, 20
And full of nothing else but empty me:
Narrow, and low, and infinitely lesse
Then this great morning's mighty busynes.
One little world or two
(Alas) will neuer doe; 25
We must haue store.
Goe, Sovl, out of thy self, and seek for more.
Goe and request
Great Natvre for the key of her huge chest
Of Heauns, the self-inuoluing sett of sphears 30
(Which dull mortality more feeles then heares).
Then rouse the nest
Of nimble Art, and trauerse round
The aiery shop of soul-appeasing sound:
And beat a summons in the same 35
All-soueraign name,
To warn each seuerall kind
And shape of sweetnes, be they such
As sigh with supple wind
Or answer artfull touch; 40
That they conuene and come away
To wait at the loue-crowned doores of this illustrious day. _love_
Shall we dare this, my Soul? we'l doe't and bring
No other note for't, but the name we sing.
Wake lvte and harp, and euery sweet-lipp't thing 45
That talkes with tunefull string;
Start into life, and leap with me
Into a hasty fitt-tun'd harmony.
Nor must you think it much
T' obey my bolder touch; 50
I haue authority in Love's name to take you,
And to the worke of Loue this morning wake you.
Wake, in the name
Of Him Who neuer sleeps, all things that are,
Or, what's the same, 55
Are musicall;
Answer my call
And come along;
Help me to meditate mine immortal song.
Come, ye soft ministers of sweet sad mirth, 60
Bring all your houshold stuffe of Heaun on earth;
O you, my Soul's most certain wings,
Complaining pipes, and prattling strings,
Bring all the store
Of sweets you haue; and murmur that you haue no more. 65
Come, ne're to part,
Nature and Art!
Come; and come strong,
To the conspiracy of our spatious song.
Bring all the powres of praise, 70
Your prouinces of well-vnited worlds can raise;
Bring all your lvtes and harps of Heavn and Earth;
Whatere cooperates to the common mirthe:
Vessells of vocall ioyes,
Or you, more noble architects of intellectuall noise, 75
Cymballs of Heau'n, or humane sphears,
Solliciters of sovles or eares;
And when you are come, with all
That you can bring or we can call:
O may you fix 80
For euer here, and mix
Your selues into the long
And euerlasting series of a deathlesse song;
Mix all your many worlds aboue,
And loose them into one of loue. 85
Chear thee my heart!
For thou too hast thy part
And place in the Great Throng
Of this vnbounded all-imbracing song.
Powres of my soul, be proud! 90
And speake lowd
To all the dear-bought Nations, this redeeming Name,
And in the wealth of one rich word, proclaim
New similes to Nature. May it be no wrong
Blest Heauns, to you and your superiour song, 95
That we, dark sons of dust and sorrow,
A while dare borrow
The name of your dilights, and our desires,
And fitt it to so farr inferior lyres.
Our murmurs haue their musick too, 100
Ye mighty Orbes, as well as you;
Nor yeilds the noblest nest
Of warbling Seraphim to the eares of Loue,
A choicer lesson then the ioyfull brest
Of a poor panting turtle-doue. 105
And we, low wormes, haue leaue to doe
The same bright busynes (ye Third Heavens) with you.
Gentle spirits, doe not complain!
We will haue care
To keep it fair, 110
And send it back to you again.
Come, louely Name! Appeare from forth the bright
Regions of peacefull light;
Look from Thine Own illustrious home,
Fair King of names, and come: 115
Leaue all Thy natiue glories in their gorgeous nest,
And giue Thy Self a while the gracious Guest
Of humble soules, that seek to find
The hidden sweets
Which man's heart meets 120
When Thou art Master of the mind.
Come louely Name; Life of our hope!
Lo, we hold our hearts wide ope!
Vnlock Thy cabinet of Day,
Dearest Sweet, and come away. 125
Lo, how the thirsty Lands
Gasp for Thy golden showres! with long-stretcht hands
Lo, how the laboring Earth
That hopes to be
All Heauen by Thee, 130
Leapes at Thy birth!
The' attending World, to wait Thy rise,
First turn'd to eyes;
And then, not knowing what to doe,
Turn'd them to teares, and spent them too. 135
Come royall Name! and pay the expence
Of all this pretious patience;
O come away
And kill the death of this delay!
O, see so many worlds of barren yeares 140
Melted and measur'd out in seas of teares:
O, see the weary liddes of wakefull Hope
(Love's eastern windowes) all wide ope
With curtains drawn,
To catch the day-break of Thy dawn. 145
O, dawn at last, long-lookt for Day!
Take Thine own wings, and come away.
Lo, where aloft it comes! It comes, among
The conduct of adoring spirits, that throng
Like diligent bees, and swarm about it. 150
O, they are wise,
And know what sweetes are suck't from out it:
It is the hiue,
By which they thriue,
Where all their hoard of hony lyes. 155
Lo, where it comes, vpon the snowy Dove's
Soft back; and brings a bosom big with loues:
Welcome to our dark world, Thou womb of Day!
Vnfold Thy fair conceptions, and display
The birth of our bright ioyes, O Thou compacted 160
Body of blessings: Spirit of soules extracted!
O, dissipate Thy spicy powres,
(Cloud of condensed sweets) and break vpon vs
In balmy showrs!
O, fill our senses, and take from vs all force of so
prophane a fallacy, 165
To think ought sweet but that which smells of Thee!
Fair, flowry Name, in none but Thee
And Thy nectareall fragrancy,
Hourly there meetes
An vniuersall synod of all sweets; 170
By whom it is defined thus,
That no perfume
For euer shall presume
To passe for odoriferous,
But such alone whose sacred pedigree 175
Can proue itself some kin (sweet Name!) to Thee.
Sweet Name, in Thy each syllable
A thousand blest Arabias dwell;
A thousand hills of frankincense,
Mountains of myrrh, and beds of spices 180
And ten thousand paradises,
The soul that tasts Thee takes from thence.
How many vnknown worlds there are
Of comforts, which Thou hast in keeping!
How many thousand mercyes there 185
In Pitty's soft lap ly a-sleeping!
Happy he who has the art
To awake them,
And to take them
Home, and lodge them in his heart. 190
O, that it were as it was wont to be!
When Thy old freinds of fire, all full of Thee,
Fought against frowns with smiles; gaue glorious chase
To persecutions; and against the face
Of Death and feircest dangers, durst with braue 195
And sober pace, march on to meet A GRAVE.
On their bold brests, about the world they bore Thee,
And to the teeth of Hell stood vp to teach Thee;
In center of their inmost soules, they wore Thee,
Where rackes and torments striu'd, in vain, to reach Thee. 200
Little, alas, thought they
Who tore the fair brests of Thy freinds,
Their fury but made way
For Thee, and seru'd them in Thy glorious ends.
What did their weapons but with wider pores 205
Inlarge Thy flaming-brested louers,
More freely to transpire
That impatient fire,
The heart that hides Thee hardly couers?
What did their weapons but sett wide the doores 210
For Thee? fair, purple doores, of Loue's deuising;
The ruby windowes which inricht the East
Of Thy so oft-repeated rising!
Each wound of theirs was Thy new morning,
And reinthron'd Thee in Thy rosy nest, 215
With blush of Thine Own blood Thy day adorning:
It was the witt of Loue oreflowd the bounds
Of Wrath, and made Thee way through all those wovnds.
Wellcome, dear, all-adored Name!
For sure there is no knee 220
That knowes not Thee:
Or, if there be such sonns of shame,
Alas! what will they doe
When stubborn rocks shall bow
And hills hang down their heaun-saluting heads 225
To seek for humble beds
Of dust, where in the bashfull shades of Night
Next to their own low Nothing, they may ly,
And couch before the dazeling light of Thy dread majesty.
They that by Loue's mild dictate now 230
Will not adore Thee,
Shall then, with just confusion bow
And break before Thee.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
The title in 1648 'Steps' is simply 'On the name of Jesus.' In 1670 it
is 'To the Name above every Name, the Name of Jesus, a Hymn,' and
throughout differs from our text (1652) only in usual modernisation of
orthography. The text of 1648 yields these readings:
Line 7, 'the bright.'
" 42, 'of th's.'
" 49, 'Into a habit fit of self tun'd Harmonie.'
" 79, 'you're.'
" 92, 'aloud.'
" 105, 'Seraphins.'
" 106, 'loyall' for 'joyfull.'
" 132, 'heavens.'
" 182 spells 'sillabell.'
" 187, 'The soules tastes thee takes from thence.'
" 202, 'bare.'
" 204, 'ware.'
" 209, 'For Thee: And serv'd therein thy glorious ends.'
See our Essay for critical remarks on the measure and rhythm of this
poem as printed in our text (1652). G.
PSALME XXIII.[34]
Happy me! O happy sheepe! 1
Whom my God vouchsafes to keepe;
Even my God, even He it is,
That points me to these paths of blisse;
On Whose pastures cheerefull Spring, 5
All the yeare doth sit and sing,
And rejoycing, smiles to see
Their green backs weare His liverie:
Pleasure sings my soul to rest,
Plentie weares me at her brest, 10
Whose sweet temper teaches me
Nor wanton, nor in want to be.
At my feet, the blubb'ring mountaine
Weeping, melts into a fountaine;
Whose soft, silver-sweating streames 15
Make high-noon forget his beames:
When my wayward breath is flying,
He calls home my soul from dying;
Strokes and tames my rabid griefe,
And does wooe me into life: 20
When my simple weaknes strayes,
(Tangled in forbidden wayes)
He (my Shepheard) is my guide,
Hee's before me, on my side,
And behind me, He beguiles 25
Craft in all her knottie wiles:
He expounds the weary wonder
Of my giddy steps, and under
Spreads a path, cleare as the day,
Where no churlish rub says nay 30
To my joy-conducted feet,
Whilst they gladly goe to meet
Grace and Peace, to learne new laies,
Tun'd to my great Shepheard's praise.
Come now all ye terrors sally, 35
Muster forth into the valley,
Where triumphant darknesse hovers
With a sable wing, that covers
Brooding horror. Come, thou Death,
Let the damps of thy dull breath 40
Over-shadow even that shade,
And make Darknes' selfe afraid;
There my feet, even there, shall find
Way for a resolved mind.
Still my Shepheard, still my God, 45
Thou art with me; still Thy rod,
And Thy staffe, whose influence
Gives direction, gives defence.
At the whisper of Thy word
Crown'd abundance spreads my boord: 50
While I feast, my foes doe feed
Their ranck malice not their need,
So that with the self-same bread
They are starv'd and I am fed.
How my head in ointment swims! 55
How my cup o'relooks her brims!
So, even so still may I move,
By the line of Thy deare love;
Still may Thy sweet mercy spread
A shady arme above my head, 60
About my paths; so shall I find,
The faire center of my mind,
Thy temple, and those lovely walls
Bright ever with a beame, that falls
Fresh from the pure glance of Thine eye, 65
Lighting to Eternity.
There I'le dwell for ever; there
Will I find a purer aire
To feed my life with, there I'le sup
Balme and nectar in my cup; 70
And thence my ripe soule will I breath
Warme into the armes of Death.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In the SANCROFT MS. this is headed 'Ps. 23 (Paraphrasia).' In line 4 it
reads 'paths' for 'wayes,' which I accept; line 27 'weary' for 'giddy,'
and line 28 'giddy' for 'weary,' both adopted; line 29 reads as we have
printed instead of 'Spreads a path as cleare as day;' line 33, 'learne'
for 'meet,' adopted; line 41, 'that' for 'the,' adopted. Only
orthographic further variations. In line 30 'rub' = obstruction, reminds
of SHAKESPEARE'S 'Now every _rub_ is smoothed in our way' (Henry V. ii.
2), and elsewhere. G.
PSALM CXXXVII.[35]
On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood, 1
There we sate, and there we wept:
Our harpes, that now no musick understood,
Nodding, on the willowes slept:
While unhappy captiv'd wee, 5
Lovely Sion, thought on thee.
They, they that snatcht us from our countrie's breast,
Would have a song carv'd to their eares
In Hebrew numbers, then (O cruell jest!)
When harpes and hearts were drown'd in teares: 10
Come, they cry'd, come sing and play
One of Sion's songs to-day.
Sing? play? to whom (ah!) shall we sing or play,
If not, Jerusalem, to thee?
Ah! thee Jerusalem! ah! sooner may 15
This hand forget the masterie
Of Musick's dainty touch, than I
The musick of thy memory.
Which when I lose, O may at once my tongue
Lose this same busie-speaking art, 20
Vnpearch't, her vocall arteries unstrung,
No more acquainted with my heart,
On my dry pallat's roof to rest
A wither'd leaf, an idle guest.
No, no, Thy good Sion, alone, must crowne 25
The head of all my hope-nurst joyes.
But Edom, cruell thou! thou cryd'st downe, downe
Sinke Sion, downe and never rise,
Her falling thou did'st urge and thrust,
And haste to dash her into dust: 30
Dost laugh? proud Babel's daughter! do, laugh on,
Till thy ruine teach thee teares,
Even such as these; laugh, till a venging throng
Of woes, too late, doe rouze thy feares:
Laugh, till thy children's bleeding bones 35
Weepe pretious teares upon the stones.
IN THE HOLY NATIVITY OF OVR LORD GOD:
A HYMN SVNG AS BY THE SHEPHEARDS.[36]
THE HYMN.
_Chorvs._
Come, we shepheards, whose blest sight 1
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 5
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. 10
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, 15
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. 20
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. 25
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. 30
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, 35
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? 40
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. 45
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.... 50
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, 55
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, 60
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 65
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. 70
_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. 75
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! 80
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, 85
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. 90
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 95
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; 100
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 105
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: 110
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,