| |
| THE SHEPHERDS went their hasty way, | |
| And found the lowly stable shed, | |
| Where the Virgin-Mother lay: | |
| And now they checked their eager tread, | |
| For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung, | 5 |
| A mother’s song the Virgin-Mother sung. | |
| |
| They told her how a glorious light, | |
| Streaming from a heavenly throng, | |
| Around them shone, suspending night, | |
| While sweeter than a mother’s song | 10 |
| Blest angels heralded the Saviour’s birth, | |
| Glory to God on high! and peace on earth. | |
| |
| She listened to the tale divine, | |
| And closer still the Babe she prest; | |
| And while she cried, “The Babe is mine!” | 15 |
| The milk rushed faster to her breast. | |
| Joy rose within her, like a summer’s morn. | |
| Peace, peace on earth! the Prince of Peace is born. | |
| |
| “Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, | |
| Poor, simple, and of low estate! | 20 |
| That strife should vanish, battle cease, | |
| Oh, why should this thy soul elate? | |
| Sweet music’s loudest note, the poet’s story,— | |
| Did’st thou ne’er love to hear of fame and glory? | |
| |
| “And is not war a youthful king, | 25 |
| A stately hero clad in mail? | |
| Beneath his footsteps laurels spring, | |
| Him, earth’s majestic monarchs hail | |
| Their friend, their playmate; and his bold bright eye | |
| Compels the maiden’s love-confessing sigh.” | 30 |
| |
| “Tell this in some more courtly scene, | |
| To maids and youths in robes of state. | |
| I am a woman poor and mean, | |
| And therefore is my soul elate. | |
| War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, | 35 |
| That from the aged father tears his child! | |
| |
| “A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, | |
| He kills the sire and starves the son; | |
| The husband kills, and from her board | |
| Steals all his widow’s toil had won, | 40 |
| Plunders God’s world of beauty; rends away | |
| All safety from the night, all comfort from the day. | |
| |
| “Then wisely is my soul elate | |
| That strife should vanish, battle cease: | |
| I’m poor and of a low estate, | 45 |
| The mother of the Prince of Peace. | |
| Joy rises in me, like a summer’s morn. | |
| Peace, peace on earth! the Prince of Peace is born.” 1 | |
