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Richard Crashaw - In the Holy Nativity of Our Lord God : A Hymn Sung as by the Shepherds
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COME, we shepherds whose blest sight
    Hath met Love`s noon in Nature`s night ;
    Come lift 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,
While we found out Heaven`s fairer eye,
    And kissed the cradle of our King ;
Tell him he rises now too late
To show us aught worth looking at.

Tell him we now can show him more
    Than he e`er show`d to mortal sight,
Than he himself e`er saw before,
    Which to be seen needs not his light :
Tell him, Tityrus, where th` hast been,
Tell him, Thyrsis, what th` hast seen.

TITYRUS.

Gloomy night embraced the place
    Where the noble infant lay :
The babe look`d up, and show`d His face ;
    In spite of darkness it was day.
It was Thy day, sweet, and did rise,
Not from the East, but from Thy eyes.
        Chorus.   It was Thy day, sweet, &c.

THYRSIS.

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 scatter`d flowers.
        Chorus.   By those sweet eyes`, &c.

BOTH.

We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest,
    Young dawn of our eternal day ;
We saw Thine eyes break from the 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 do
    To entertain this starry stranger ?
Is this the best thou canst bestow—
    A cold and not too cleanly manger ?
Contend, the powers of heaven and earth,
To fit a bed for this huge birth.
        Chorus.   Contend, the powers, &c.

THYRSIS.

Proud world, said I, cease your contest,
    And let the mighty babe alone,
The phoenix builds the phoenix` nest,
    Love`s architecture is His own.
The babe, whose birth embraves this morn,
Made His own bed ere He was born.
        Chorus.   The babe whose birth, &c.

TITYRUS.

I saw the curl`d drops, soft and slow,
    Come hovering o`er the place`s head ;
Offe`ring 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.

THYRSIS.

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 for pure ?

        Chorus.   Well done, said I, &c.

BOTH.

No, no, your King`s not yet to seek
    Where to repose His royal head ;
See, see how soon His new-bloom`d cheek
    `Twixt mother`s breasts is gone to bed.
Sweet choice, said we, no way but so,
Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow !
        Chorus.   Sweet choice, said we, &c.

FULL CHORUS.

Welcome all wonders in one sight !
    Eternity shut in a span !
Summer in winter ! day in night !

CHORUS.

    Heaven in earth ! and God in man !
Great little one, whose all-embracing birth
Lifts earth to Heaven, stoops Heaven to earth !

Welcome, tho` nor to gold, nor silk,
    To more than Cæsar`s birthright is :
Twin sister seas of virgin`s milk,
    With many a rarely-temper`d kiss,
That breathes at once both maid and mother,
Warms in the one, cools in the other.

She 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 lie.
She `gainst those mother diamonds tries
The points of her young eagle`s eyes.

Welcome—tho` not to those gay flies,
    Gilded i` th` beams of earthly kings,
Slippery souls in smiling eyes—
    But to poor shepherds, homespun things,
Whose wealth`s their flocks, whose wit`s to be
Well read in their simplicity.

Yet, when April`s husband show`rs
    Shall bless the fruitful Maia`s bed,
We`ll bring the first-born of her flowers,
    To kiss Thy feet, and crown Thy head.
To Thee, dread Lamb !  whose love must keep
The shepherds while they feed their sheep.

To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King
    Of simple graces and sweet loves !
Each of us his lamb will bring,
    Each his pair of silver doves !
At last, in fire of Thy fair eyes,
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice !
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