No war, or battle's sound,

Was heard the world around :

The idle spear and shield were high up hung: The hooked chariot stood

Unstain'd with hostile blood;

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye,

As if they surely knew their Sovereign Lord was by.

But peaceful was the night,

Wherein the Prince of Light

His reign of peace upon the earth began : The winds, with wonder whist,

Smoothly the waters kiss'd,

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean;

Who now hath quite forgot to rave,

[wave.

While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed

The stars, with deep amaze,

Stand fix'd in stedfast gaze,

Bending one way their precious influence;

And will not take their flight,

For all the morning light,

Or Lucifer, that often warn'd them thence;

But in their glimmering orbs did glow,

Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.

And, though the shady gloom

Had given day her room,

The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,

And hid his head for shame,

As his inferior flame

The new-enlighten'd world no more should need;

He saw a greater Sun appear

[bear.

Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could

The shepherds on the lawn,

Or ere the point of dawn,

Sat simply chatting in a rustic row: Full little thought they then

That the mighty Pan

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

Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep:

When such music sweet

Their hearts and ears did greet,

As never was by mortal finger strook ; Divinely-warbled voice

Answering the stringed noise,

As all their souls in blissful rapture took :

The air, such pleasure loth to lose,

[close.

With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly

Nature, that heard such sound,

Beneath the hollow round

Of Cynthia's seat, the aery region thrilling,

Now was almost won

To think her part was done,

And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; She knew such harmony alone

Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union.

At last surrounds their sight

A globe of circular light,

That with long beams the shamefaced night

The helmed Cherubim,

And sworded Seraphim,

[array'd;

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, Harping in loud and solemn quire,

[Heir.

With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born

Such music, as 'tis said,

Before was never made,

But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great

His constellations set,

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung; And cast the dark foundations deep,

[keep.

And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel

Ring out, ye crystal spheres,

Once bless our human ears,

If ye have power to touch our senses so; And let your silver chime

Move in melodious time;

And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow;

And, with your ninefold harmony,

Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.

For, if such holy song

Enwrap our fancy long,

Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold; And speckled Vanity

Will sicken soon and die,

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

And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.

Yea, Truth and Justice then

Will down return to men,

Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between,

Throned in celestial sheen,

[ing;

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steer

And Heaven, as at some festival,

Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.

But wisest Fate says no,

This must not yet be so;

The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy, That on the bitter cross

Must redeem our loss;

So both himself and us to glorify;

Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep,

[the deep;

The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through

With such a horrid clang

As on mount Sinai rang,

[brake:

While the red fire and smouldering clouds out

The aged earth aghast,

With terror of that blast,

Shall from the surface to the centre shake;

When, at the world's last session,

[throne.

The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his

And then at last our bliss

Full and perfect is,

But now begins: for, from this happy day,

The old Dragon, under ground,

In straiter limits bound,

Not half so far casts his usurped sway;

And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,

Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.

The oracles are dumb,

No voice or hideous hum

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

Can no more divine,

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving: No nightly trance, or breathed spell,

Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.

D

The lonely mountains o'er,
And the resounding shore,

A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
From haunted spring and dale,

Edged with poplar pale,

The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn,

[mourn.

The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets

In consecrated earth,

And on the holy hearth,

The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint;

In urns and altars round,

A drear and dying sound

Affrights the flamens at their service quaint; And the chill marble seems to sweat,

While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat.

Peor and Bäalim

Forsake their temples dim,

With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine;

And mooned Ashtaroth,

Heaven's queen and mother both,

Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine;

The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn,

[mourn.

In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz

And sullen Moloch, fled,

Hath left in shadows dread

His burning idol all of blackest hue;

In vain with cymbals' ring

They call the grisly king,

In dismal dance about the furnace blue:

The brutish gods of Nile as fast,

Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.