| Chorus. | COME we shepheards whose blest Sight | |
| Hath mett love's Noon in Nature's night; | |
| Come lift we up our loftyer Song | |
| And wake the SUN that lyes too long. | |
| |
| To all our world of well-stoln joy | 5 |
| He slept; and dream't of no such thing; | |
| While we found out Heavn's fairer eye | |
| And Kis't the Cradle of our KING. | |
| Tell him He rises now too late | |
| To show us 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 up & shew'd his Face; | |
| In spite of Darknes, it was DAY. | 20 |
| It was THY day, SWEET! & did rise | |
| Not from the EAST, but from thine EYES. | |
| |
| Chorus. It was THY day, Sweet, &c. | |
| |
| Thyrs. WINTER chidde aloud; & 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 persuasive powrs | |
| Where he mean't frost, he scatter'd flowrs. | |
| |
| Chorus. By those sweet eyes, &c. | 30 |
| |
| Both. We saw thee in thy baulmy Nest, | |
| Young dawn of our æternall DAY! | |
| We saw thine eyes break from their EASTE | |
| And chase the trembling shades away. | |
| We saw thee; & we blest the sight, | 35 |
| We saw thee by thine own sweet light. | |
| |
| Tity. 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 ye powres of heav'n & earth | |
| To fitt à bed for this huge birthe. | |
| |
| Cho. Contend ye powers, &c. | |
| |
| Thyr. Proud world, said I; cease your contest, | |
| And let the MIGHTY BABE alone. | 45 |
| The Phænix builds the Phænix' nest. | |
| Lov's architecture is his own. | |
| The BABE whose birth embraves this morn, | |
| Made his own bed e're he was born. | |
| |
| Cho. The BABE whose, &c. | 50 |
| |
| Tit. I saw the curl'd drops, soft & slow, | |
| Come hovering 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 t'is too cold. | |
| |
| Cho. Forbear, sayd I, &c. | |
| |
| Thyr. I saw the obsequious SERAPHINS | |
| Their rosy fleece of fire bestow, | |
| For well they now can spare their wings, | 60 |
| Since HEAVN it self lyes here below. | |
| Well done, said I: but are you sure | |
| Your down so warm, will passe for pure? | |
| |
| Cho. Well done sayd I, &c. | |
| |
| Tit. 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 |
| |
| Cho. Sweet choise, said we, &c. | |
| |
| Both. We saw thee in thy baulmy nest, | |
| Bright dawn of our æternall Day! | |
| We saw thine eyes break from thir EAST | |
| And chase the trembling shades away. | 75 |
| We saw thee: & we blest the sight. | |
| We saw thee, by thine own sweet light. | |
| |
| Cho. We saw thee, &c. | |
| |
| Full Chorus. | Wellcome, all WONDERS in one sight! | |
| Æternity shutt in a span. | 80 |
| Sommer in Winter. Day in Night. | |
| Heaven in earth, & GOD in MAN. | |
| Great little one! whose all-embracing birth | |
| Lifts earth to heaven, stoopes heav'n to earth. | |
| |
| WELLCOME. Though nor to gold nor silk. | 85 |
| To more then Cæsar's birth right is; | |
| Two sister-seas of Virgin-Milk, | |
| With many a rarely-temper'd kisse | |
| That breathes at once both MAID & MOTHER, | |
| Warmes in the one, cooles in the other. | 90 |
| |
| WELLCOME, though not to those gay flyes | |
| Guilded ith' Beames of earthly kings; | |
| Slippery soules in smiling eyes; | |
| But to poor Shepherds, home-spun things: | |
| Whose Wealth 's their flock; whose witt, to be | 95 |
| Well read in their simplicity. | |
| |
| Yet when young April's husband showrs | |
| Shall blesse the fruitfull Maia's bed, | |
| We'l bring the First-born of her flowrs | |
| To kisse thy FEET & crown thy HEAD. | 100 |
| To thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep | |
| The shepheards, more then they the sheep. | |
| |
| To THEE meek Majesty! soft KING | |
| Of simple GRACES & sweet LOVES. | |
| Each of us his lamb will bring | 105 |
| Each his pair of sylver Doves; | |
| Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes, | |
| Our selves become our own best SACRIFICE. | |
| |
