Classic and Contemporary Poetry
IN THE HOLY NATIVITY [OF OUR LORD GOD]; AS SUNG BY SHEPHERDS, by RICHARD CRASHAW Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Come, we shepherds, whose blest sight Last Line: Our selves become our own best sacrifice. Variant Title(s): At Bethlehem;hymn Of The Nativity;the Nativity;hymn In The Holy Nativity (2) Subject(s): Christmas; Jesus Christ; Nativity, The | ||||||||
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 He slept; and dream't of no such thing. While we found out Heavn's fairer ey And Kis't the Cradle of our KING. Tell him He rises now, too late To show us ought worth looking at. 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 Tell him, Thyrsis, what th'hast seen. Tityrus. Gloomy night embrac't the Place Where The Noble Infant lay. The BABE look't up and shew'd his Face; In spite of Darknes, it was DAY. It was THY day, SWEET! and did rise Not from the EAST, but from thine EYES. Chorus It was THY day, Sweet Thyrs. WINTER chidde aloud; and sent The angry North to wage his warres. 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' Both. We saw thee in thy baulmy Nest, Young dawn of our aeternall DAY! We saw thine eyes break from their EASTE And chase the trembling shades away. We saw thee; and we blest the sight 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? Contend, ye powres of heav'n and earth. To fitt a bed for this huge birthe. Cho. Contend ye powers Thyr. Proud world, said I; cease your contest And let the MIGHTY BABE alone. The Phaenix builds the Phaenix' nest. LOVE'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. Tit. I saw the curl'd drops, soft and 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. Your fleece is white But t'is too cold. Cho. Forbear, sayd I Thyr. I saw the obsequious SERAPHIMS Their rosy fleece of fire bestow. For well they now can spare their wings Since HEAVN itself lyes here below. Well done, said I: but are you sure Your down so warm, will passe for pure? Cho. Well done sayd I Tit. No no. your KING'S not yet to seeke 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. Cho. Sweet choise, said we. Both. We saw thee in thy baulmy nest, Bright dawn of our aeternall Day! We saw thine eyes break from their EAST And chase the trembling shades away. We saw thee: and 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! AEternity shutt in a span. Sommer in Winter. Day in Night. Heaven in earth, and 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. To more than Caesar's birthright is; Two sister-seas of Virgin-Milk, With many a rarely-temper'd kisse That breathes at once both MAID and MOTHER, Warmes in the one, cooles in the other. WELCOME, though not to those gay flyes. Guilded ith' Beames of earthly kings; Slippery soules in smiling eyes; But to poor Shepheards, home-spun things: Whose Wealth's their flock; whose witt, to be Well read in their simplicity. Yet when young April's husband showrs Shall blesse the fruitfull Maja's bed We'l bring the First-born of her flowrs To kisse thy FEET and crown thy HEAD. To thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep The shepheards, more then they the sheep. TO THEE, meek Majesty! soft KING Of simple GRACES and sweet LOVES. Each of us his lamb will bring Each his pair of sylver Doves; Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes, Our selves become our own best SACRIFICE. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIFFERENT VIEWS; A CHRISMAS DUET by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY AN UNMERRY CHRISTMAS by AMBROSE BIERCE CHRISTMAS IN CHINATOWN by AUGUST KLEINZAHLER CHRISTMAS TREE by JOHN FREDERICK NIMS ISAIAH'S COAL by JOHN FREDERICK NIMS SOUNDS OF THE RESURRECTED DEAD MAN'S FOOTSTEPS (#3): 1. BEAST, PEACH.. by MARVIN BELL A HYMN [TO THE NAME AND] IN HONOR OF SAINT TERESA by RICHARD CRASHAW A SONG [OF DIVINE LOVE] by RICHARD CRASHAW AN EPITAPH UPON HUSBAND AND WIFE WHO DIED AND WERE BURIED by RICHARD CRASHAW |
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