1

O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
And lay it lowly at his bleffed feet:

Have thou the Honour firft, thy Lord to greet,
And join thy voice unto the Angel Choir,

From out his fecret Altar toucht with hallow'd fire.

The HYM N.

T was the Winter wild,

I.

While the Heav'n-born Child

All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies
Nature in awe to him

Had doff'd her gawdy trim,

With her great Mafter so to sympathize:
It was no feafon then for her

To wanton with the Sun, her lufty Paramour.
II.

Only with speeches fair

She woos the gentle Air,

To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow,
And on her naked fhame,

Pollute with finful blame,

The Saintly Veil of Maiden white to throw ;
Confounded, that her Maker's eyes

Should look fo near upon her foul deformities.
III.

But he, her fears to cease,

Sent down the meek-ey'd Peace;

She, crown'd with Olive green, came foftly fliding Down through the turning Sphear

His ready Harbinger,

With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;

And waving wide her myrtle wand,

She ftrikes a univerfal Peace through Sea and Land.

No War, or Battle's found,

IV.

Was heard the World around,

The idle fpear and fhield were high up hung, The hooked Chariot stood

Unftain'd with hoftile blood,

The Trumpet fpake not to the armed throng; And Kings fat ftill with awful eye,

As if they furely knew their fovereign Lord was by. V..

But peaceful was the night,

Wherein the Prince of light

His reign of peace upon the earth began: The Winds, with wonder whift,

Smoothly the waters kift,

Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave,

While Birds of Calm fit brooding on the charmed Wave,

The Stars with deep amaze

Stand fixt in ftedfast gaze,

VI.

Bending one way their precious influence,

And will not take their flight,

For all the morning light

Of Lucifer, that often warm'd them thence;

But in their glimmering Orbs did glow,

Until their Lord himself befpake, and bid them go,

VIL.

And though the fhady gloom.

Had giv'n day her room,

The Sun himself with-held his wonted speed,

And hid his head for fhame,

As his inferior flame

The new-enlighten'd World no more fhould need;

He faw a greater Sun appear

Than his bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear.

VIII.

The Shepherds on the Lawn,

Or ere the point of dawn,

Sat fimply chatting in a ruftic row; Full little thought they then,

That the mighty Pan

Was kindly come to live with them below; Perhaps their loves, or elfe their sheep,

Was all that did their filly thoughts fo bufy keep.

When fuch mufick fweet

IX.

Their hearts and ears did greet,

As never was by mortal finger ftrook, Divinely warbled voice,

Anfw'ring the ftringed noife,

As all their Souls in blifsful rapture took: The Air fuch pleasure loth to lofe,

With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly clofe.

X.

Nature that heard fuch found

Beneath the hollow round

Of Cynthia's feat, the airy region thrilling,

Now was almost won

To think her part was done,

And that her reign had here its last fulfillings

She knew fuch harmony alone

Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier Union.

At laft furrounds their fight

A Globe of circular light,

XI.

That with long beams the fhame-fac'd night array'd; The helmed Cherubim,

And fworded Seraphim,

Are feen in glittering ranks with wings display'd,
Harping in loud and folemn Choir,

With inexpreffive notes, to Heav'n's new-born Heir.
XII.

Such Mufick (as 'tis faid)

Before was never made,

But when of old the fons of morning fung,

While the Creator great

His Conftellations fet,

And

And the well ballanc'd world on hinges hung, And caft the dark foundations deep,

And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.

XIII.

(If ye have pow'r to touch our fenfes fo) And let your filver chime

Move in melodious time,

And let the Bafs of Heav'n's deep Organ blow; And with your ninefold harmony

Make up full confort to th' Angelic Symphony.

For if fuch holy Song

Enwrap our fancy long,

XIV.

Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, And fpeckled vanity

Will ficken foon and die,

And leprous fin will melt from earthly mould, And Hell itself will pass away,

And leave her dolorous manfions to the peering day.

XV.

Yea, Truth and Justice then

Will down return to men,

Orb'd in a Rain-bow, and like glories wearing : Mercy will fit between,

Thron'd in Celestial sheen,

With radiant feet the tiffued clouds down fteering; And Heav'n, as at fome Festival,

Will open wide the Gates of her high Palace-hall.

But wifeft Fate fays no,

This must not yet be fo;

XVI.

The Babe lies yet in fmiling Infancy, That on the bitter cross

Muft redeem our lofs;

So both himself and us to glorifie:

Yet first to thofe ychain'd in fleep,

The wakeful trump of doom muft thunder thro' the deer.

Q3

X

XVII.

With fuch a horrid clang

As on Mount Sinai rang,

While the red fire, and fmouldring clouds out brake : The aged Earth, aghaft

With terrour of that blaft,

Shall from the furface to the centre fhake;

When at the world's laft feffion,

The dreadful Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne,

XVIII.

And then at laft our blifs

Full and perfect is;

But now begins: for from this happy day
Th' old Dragon under ground

In ftraiter limits bound,

Not half fo far cafts his ufurped fway,

And wroth to fee his Kingdom fail,

Swindges the fcaly Horrour of his folded tail.

The Oracles are dumb;

No voice or hideous hum

XIX.

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving:
Apollo from his fhrine

Can no more divine,

With hollow fhriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance, or breathed fpell,

Infpires the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.
XX.

The lonely mountains o'er,

And the refounding fhore,

A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
From haunting fpring, and dale,

Edg'd with poplar pale,

The parting Genius is with fighing fent:

With flow'r-inwov'n treffes torn,

The Nymphs in twilight fhade of tangled thickets

mourn.