And that far-beaming blaze of Majesty
Wherewith He wont at Heav'n's high council-table
To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
He laid aside; and here with us to be,
Forsook the courts of everlasting day,
And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.
Say, heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
Afford a present to the Infant God?
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,
To welcome Him to this His new abode,
Now while the heav'n by the sun's team untrod,
Hath took no print of the approaching light,
And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
See how from far, upon the eastern road
The star-led wizards haste with odors sweet:
O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
And lay it lowly at His blessèd feet;
Have thou the honor first thy Lord to greet,
And join thy voice unto the angel quire,
From out His secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.
THE HYMN
It was the winter wild
While the heav'n-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-ey'd Peace;
She crown'd with olive-green, came softly sliding
Down through the turning sphere,
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:
The idle spear and shield were high up hung,
The hooked chariot stood
Unstain'd with hostile blood,
The trumpet spake not to the armed throng,
And kings sat still with awful eye,
As if they surely knew their sov'reign Lord was by.
But peaceful was the night,
Wherein the Prince of Light
His reign of peace upon the earth began:
The winds, with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kist,
Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
The stars with deep amaze,
Stand fix'd in steadfast 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 axle-tree, could bear.
The shepherds on the lawn,
Or ere the point of dawn,
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,
Divinely warbled voice
Answering the stringèd 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 airy 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 heav'n and earth in happier union.
At last surrounds their sight
A globe of circular light,
That with long beams the shamefac'd night array'd;
The helmèd Cherubim,
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,
But when of old the Sons of Morning sung,
While the Creator great
His constellations set,
And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung,
And cast the dark foundations deep,
And bid the welt'ring 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 bass of Heav'n's deep organ blow;
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full consort to th' angelic symphony.
For if such holy song
Inwrap our fancy long,
Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold,
And speckled Vanity
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 set between,
Throned in celestial sheen,
With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering:
And Heav'n, 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 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 out-brake:
The aged Earth aghast,
With terror of that blast,
Shall from the surface to the centre shake;
When at the world's last sessiòn,
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,
Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
The oracles are dumb,
No voice or hideous hum
Runs thro' the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine,
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance or breathèd spell
Inspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic cell.
The lonely mountains o'er,
And the resounding shore,
A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
From haunted spring and dale
Edg'd with poplar pale,
The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
With flow'r-inwoven tresses torn
The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
In consecrated earth,
And on the holy hearth,
The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint;
In urns, and altars round,
A drear and dying sound
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
And the chill marble seems to sweat,
While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.
Peor and Baälim
Forsake their temples dim,
With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine;
And moonèd Ashtaroth,
Heaven's queen and mother both,
Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine;
The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn.
In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.
And sullen Moloch fled,
Hath left in shadows dread
His burning idol all of blackest hue;
In vain with cymbals' ring
They call the grisly king,
In dismal dance about the furnace blue:
The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis haste.
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove or green,
Trampling the unshow'r'd grass with lowings loud:
Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest,
Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud;
In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark
The sable-stolèd sorcerers bear his worship'd ark.
He feels from Juda's land
The dreaded infant's hand,
The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
Not all the gods beside,
Longer dare abide,
Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
Can in his swaddling bands control the damnèd crew.
So, when the sun in bed
Curtain'd with cloudy red
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
The flocking shadows pale
Troop to the infernal jail,
Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave;
And the yellow-skirted fays
Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze.
But see, the Virgin blest
Hath laid her Babe to rest;
Time is, our tedious song should here have ending:
Heaven's youngest-teemèd star
Hath fix'd her polish'd car,
Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending:
And all about the courtly stable
Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.
_--J. Milton_
THE BURNING BABE
As I in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat, which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty babe, all burning bright, did in the air appear;
Who, scorchèd with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed,
As though his floods should quench his flames which with his
tears were fed:--
"Alas!" quoth He, "but newly born, in fiery heats I fry,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I!
My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns;
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;
The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defilèd souls,
For which, as now on fire I am, to work them to their good,
So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood."--
With this He vanish'd out of sight, and swiftly shrunk away;
And straight I called unto mind that it was Christmasday.
_--R. Southwell_
A CRADLE SONG.
Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard thy bed!
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.
Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide,
All without thy care or payment
All thy wants are well supplied.
How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle;
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay:
When his birthplace was a stable,
And his softest bed was hay.
See the kindly shepherds round him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
Where they sought him, there they found him,
With his Virgin-Mother by.
See the lovely babe a-dressing:
Lovely infant, how he smiled!
When he wept, the mother's blessing
Soothed and hush'd the holy child.
Lo, he slumbers in his manger,
Where the hornèd oxen fed;
--Peace, my darling! here's no danger!
Here's no ox a-near thy bed!
--May'st thou live to know and fear him,
Trust and love him all thy days:
Then go dwell forever near him;
See his face, and sing his praise.
I could give thee thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most desire:
Not a mother's fondest wishes
Can to greater joys aspire.
_--I. Watts_
EASTER
I got me flowers to straw Thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree;
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee.
The sun arising in the East,
Though he give light, and th' East perfume,
If they should offer to contest
With Thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many suns to shine endeavor?
We count three hundred, but we miss:
There is but one, and that one ever.
_--George Herbert_
THE LIFE OF ST. PETER THE APOSTLE
St. Peter the apostle among all other, and above all other, was of most
fervent and burning love, for he would have known the traitor that
should betray our Lord Jesu Christ, as St. Austin saith: If he had known
him he would have torn him with his teeth, and therefore our Lord would
not name him to him, for as Chrysostom, saith: If he had named him,
Peter had arisen and all to-torn him. Peter went upon the sea; he was
chosen of God to be at his transfiguration, and raised a maid from death
to life; he found the stater or piece of money in the fish's mouth; he
received of our Lord the keys of the kingdom of heaven; he took the
charge to feed the sheep of Jesu Christ. He converted at a Whitsuntide
three thousand men, he healed Claude with John, and then converted five
thousand men; he said to Ananias and Saphira their death before; he
healed Æneas of the palsy; he raised Tabitha; he baptized Cornelia; with
the shadow of his body he healed sick men; he was put in prison by
Herod, but by the angel of our Lord he was delivered. What his meat was
and his clothing, the book of St. Clement witnesseth, for he said: Bread
only with olives, and seldom with worts, is mine usage, and I have such
clothing as thou seest, a coat and a mantle, and when I have that, I
demand no more. It is said for certain that he bare always a sudary in
his bosom, with which he wiped the tears that ran from his eyes; for
when he remembered the sweet presence of our Lord, for the great love
that he had to him he might not forbear weeping. And also when he
remembered that he had renied him, he wept abundantly great plenty of
tears, in such wise that he was so accustomed to weep that his face was
burned with tears as it seemed, like as Clement saith. And saith also
that in the night when he heard the cock crow he would weep customably.
And after that it is read in Historia Ecclesiastica that, when St.
Peter's wife was led to her passion, he had great joy and called her by
her proper name, and said to her: My wife, remember thee of our Lord.
On a time when St. Peter had sent two of his disciples for to preach the
faith of Jesu Christ, and when they had gone twenty days' journey, one
of them died, and that other then returned to St. Peter and told him
what had happened, some say that it was St. Marcial that so died, and
some say it was St. Maternus, and others say that it was St. Frank. Then
St. Peter gave to him his staff and commanded that he should return to
his fellow, and lay it upon him, which he so did, then he which had been
forty days dead, anon arose all living.
That time Simon the enchanter was in Jerusalem, and he said he was first
truth, and affirmed that who that would believe in him he would make
them perpetual. And he also said that nothing to him was impossible. It
is read in the book of St. Clement that he said that he should be
worshipped of all men as God, and that he might do all that he would.
And he said yet more: When my mother Rachel commanded me that I should
go reap corn in the field, and saw the sickle ready to reap with, I
commanded the sickle to reap by itself alone, and it reaped ten times
more than any other. And yet he added hereto more, after Jerome, and
said: I am the Word of God, I am the Holy Ghost, I am Almighty, I am all
that is of God. He made serpents of brass to move, and made the images
of iron and of stone to laugh, and dogs to sing, and as St. Linus saith,
he would dispute with St. Peter and show, at a day assigned, that he was
God. And Peter came to the place where the strife should be, and said to
them that were there: Peace to you brethren that love truth. To whom
Simon said: We have none need of thy peace, for if peace and concord
were made, we should not profit to find the truth, for thieves have
peace among them. And therefore desire no peace but battle, for when two
men fight and one is overcome then is it peace. Then said Peter: Why
dreadest thou to hear of peace? Of sins grow battles, where is no sin
there is peace; in disputing is truth found, and in works righteousness.
Then said Simon: It is not as thou sayest, but I shall show to thee the
power of my dignity, that anon thou shalt adore me; I am first truth,
and may flee by the air; I can make new trees and turn stones into
bread; endure in the fire without hurting; and all that I will I may do.
St. Peter disputed against all these, and disclosed all his malefices.
Then Simon Magus, seeing that he might not resist Peter, cast all his
books into the sea, lest St. Peter should prove him a magician, by his
books, and went to Rome where he was had and reputed as a god. And when
Peter knew that, he followed and came to Rome. The fourth year of
Claudius the emperor, Peter came to Rome, and sat there twenty-five
years, and ordained two bishops as his helpers, Linus and Cletus, one
within the walls, and that other without. He entended much to preaching
of the Word of God, by which he converted much people to the faith of
Christ, and healed many sick men, and in his preaching always he praised
and preferred chastity. He converted four concubines, of Agrippa the
provost, so that they would no more come to him, wherefore the provost
sought occasion against Peter.
After this, our Lord appeared to St. Peter, saying to him: Simon Magus
and Nero purpose against thee, dread thee not, for I am with thee, and
shall give to thee the solace of my servant Paul, which to-morn shall
come in to Rome. Then Peter, knowing that he should not long abide here,
assembled all his brethren, and took Clement by the hand and ordained
him a bishop, and made him to sit in his own seat. After this, as our
Lord had said tofore, Paul came to Rome, and with Peter began to preach
the faith of Christ.
Simon Magus was so much beloved of Nero that he weened that he had been
the keeper of his life, of his health, and of all the city. On a day, as
Leo the pope saith, as he stood tofore Nero, suddenly his visage
changed, now old and now young, which, when Nero saw, he supposed that
he had been the son of God. Then said Simon Magus to Nero: Because that
thou shalt know me to be the very son of God, command my head to be
smitten off and I shall arise again the third day. Then Nero commanded
to his brother to smite off his head, and when he supposed to have
beheaded Simon, he beheaded a ram. Simon, by his art magic went away
unhurt, and gathered together the members of the ram, and hid him three
days. The blood of the ram abode and congealed. The third day he came
and showed him to Nero, saying: Command my blood to be washed away, for
lo I am he that was beheaded, and as I promised I have risen again the
third day. Whom Nero seeing, was abashed and trowed verily that he had
been the son of God. All this saith Leo. Sometime also, when he was with
Nero secretly within his conclave, the devil in his likeness spake
without to the people. Then the Romans had him in such worship that they
made to him an image, and wrote above, this title: To Simon the holy
God. Peter and Paul entered to Nero and discovered all the enchantments
and malefices of Simon Magus, and Peter added thereto, seeing that like
as in Christ be two substances that is of God and man, so are in this
magician two substances, that is of man and of the devil. Then said
Simon Magus, as St. Marcelle and Leo witness, lest I should suffer any
longer this enemy, I shall command my angels that they shall avenge me
on him. To whom Peter said: I dread nothing thine angels, but they
dread me. Nero said: Dreadest thou not Simon, that by certain things
affirmeth his godhead? To whom Peter said: If dignity or godhead be in
him let him tell now what I think or what I do, which thought I shall
first tell to thee, that he shall not mow lie what I think. To whom Nero
said: Come hither and say what thou thinkest. Then Peter went to him and
said to him secretly: Command some man to bring to me a barley-loaf, and
deliver it to me privily. When it was taken to him, he blessed it, and
hid it under his sleeve, and then said he: Now Simon say what I think,
and have said and done. Simon answered: Let Peter say what I think.
Peter answered: What Simon thinketh that I know, I shall do it when he
hath thought. Then Simon having indignation, cried aloud: I command that
dogs come and devour him. And suddenly there appeared great dogs and
made an assault against Peter. He gave to them of the bread that he had
blessed, and suddenly he made them to flee. Then said Peter to Nero: Lo!
I have showed you what he thought against me, not in words but in deeds,
for where he promised angels to come against me he brought dogs, thereby
he showeth that he hath none angels but dogs. Then said Simon: Hear ye,
Peter and Paul; if I may not grieve you here, ye shall come where me it
shall behove to judge you. I shall spare you here. Hæc Leo. Then Simon
Magus, as Hegesippus and Linus say, elate in pride avaunted him that he
can raise dead men to life. And it happed that there was a young man
dead, and then Nero let call Peter and Simon, and all gave sentence by
the will of Simon that he should be slain that might not arise the dead
man to life. Simon then, as he made his incantations upon the dead body,
he was seen move his head of them that stood by; then all they cried for
to stone Peter. Peter unnethe getting silence said: If the dead body
live, let him arise, walk and speak, else know ye that it is a fantasy
that the head of the dead man moveth. Let Simon be taken from the bed.
And the body abode immovable. Peter standing afar making his prayer
cried to the dead body, saying: Young man, arise in the name of Jesu
Christ of Nazareth crucified, and anon, he arose living, and walked.
Then, when the people would have stoned Simon Magus, Peter said: He is
in pain enough, knowing him to be overcome in his heart; our master hath
taught us for to do good for evil. Then said Simon to Peter and Paul:
Yet is it not come to you that ye desire, for ye be not worthy to have
martyrdom, the which answered: That is, that we desire to have, to thee
shall never be well, for thou liest all that thou sayest.
Then as Marcel saith: Simon went to the house of Marcel and bound there
a great black dog at the door of the house, and said: Now I shall see if
Peter, which is accustomed to come hither, shall come, and if he come
this dog shall strangle him. And a little after that, Peter and Paul
went thither, and anon Peter made the sign of the cross and unbound the
hound, and the hound was as tame and meek as a lamb, and pursued none
but Simon, and went to him and took and cast him to the ground under
him, and would have strangled him. And then ran Peter to him and cried
upon the hound that he should not do him any harm. And anon the hound
left and touched not his body, but he all torent and tare his gown in
such wise that he was almost naked. Then all the people, and especially
children, ran with the hound upon him and hunted and chased him out of
the town as he had been a wolf. Then for the reproof and shame he durst
not come in to the town of all a whole year after. Then Marcel that was
disciple of Simon Magus, seeing these great miracles, came to Peter, and
was from then forthon his disciple.
And after, at the end of the year, Simon returned and was received again
into the amity of Nero. And then, as Leo saith, this Simon Magus
assembled the people and showed to them how he had been angered of the
Galileans, and therefore he said that he would leave the city which he
was wont to defend and keep, and set a day in which he would ascend into
heaven, for he deigned no more to dwell in the earth. Then on the day
that he had stablished, like as he had said, he went up to an high
tower, which was on the capitol, and there being crowned with laurel,
threw himself out from place to place, and began to fly in the air. Then
said St. Paul to St. Peter: It appertaineth to me to pray, and to thee
for to command. Then said Nero: This man is very God, and ye be two
traitors. Then said St. Peter to St. Paul: Paul, brother, lift up thine
head and see how Simon flyeth. Then St. Paul said to St. Peter when he
saw him fly so high: Peter, why tarriest thou? perform that thou hast
begun, God now calleth us. Then said Peter: I charge and conjure you
angels of Sathanas, which bear him in the air, by the name of our Lord
Jesu Christ, that ye bear ne sustain him no more, but let him fall to
the earth. And anon they let him fall to the ground and brake his neck
and head, and he died there forthwith. And when Nero heard say that
Simon was dead, and that he had lost such a man, he was sorrowful, and
said to the apostles: Ye have done this in despite of me, and therefore
I shall destroy you by right evil example. Hæc Leo. Then he delivered
them to Paulin, which was a much noble man, and Paulin delivered them to
Mamertin under the keeping of two knights, Processe and Martinian, whom
St. Peter converted to the faith. And they then opened the prison and
let them all go out that would go, wherefore, after the passion of the
apostles, Paulin, when he knew that they were Christian, beheaded both
Processe and Martinian.