  "His place of birth a solemn angel tells To simple shepherds keeping watch by night." Milton. ON OATEN PIPES.As I rode out this enderes night, Of three ioli sheppardes I saw a sight, And all abowte there fold a star shone bright; They sang, terli, terlow; So mereli the sheppardes their pipes can blow. Doune from heaven, from heaven so hie, Of angeles ther came a great companie, With mirthe, and joy, and great solemnitye, The sange, terly, terlow; So mereli the sheppardes their pipes can blow. Coventry Mysteries. PIPE-PLAYING.Tyrle, Tyrle, so Merrily the Shepherds began to Blow. About the field they piped full right, Even about the midst of the night; Adown from heaven they saw come a light, Tyrle, tyrle. Of angels there came a company With merry songs and melody, The shepherds anon gan them espy, Tyrle, tyrle. Gloria in excelsis the angels sung, And said how peace was present among, To every man that to the faith would 'long, Tyrle, tyrle. The shepherds hied them to Bethlehem To see that blessed sun's beam; And there they found that glorious stream, Tyrle, tyrle. Now pray we to that meek Child, And to his mother that is so mild, The which was never defiled, Tyrle, tyrle. Where joy shall never miss; That we may sing in Paradise, Tyrle, tyrle. I pray you all that be here For to sing and make good cheer, In the worship of God this year, Tyrle, tyrle. Wright's Songs and Carols. THE FIRST CAROL.IN BETHLEHEM.In Bethlehem, that noble place, As by the Prophet said it was, Of the Virgin Mary, filled with grace. Salvator mundi natus est. Be we merry in this feast, In quo Salvator natus est. On Christmas night an Angel told The shepherds watching by their fold, In Bethlehem, full nigh the wold, "Salvator mundi natus est." Be we merry in this feast, In quo Salvator natus est. The shepherds were encompassed right, About them shone a glorious light, "Dread ye naught," said the Angel bright, "Salvator mundi natus est." Be we merry in this feast, In quo Salvator natus est. "No cause have ye to be afraid, For why? this day is Jesus laid On Mary's lap, that gentle maid: Be we merry in this feast, In quo Salvator natus est. "And thus in faith find him ye shall Laid poorly in an ox's stall." The shepherds then lauded God all, Quia Salvator natus est. Be we merry in this feast, In quo Salvator natus est. Christmas Carolles, A.D. 1550. A CAROL IN THE PASTURES.Sweet music, sweeter far Than any song is sweet: Sweet music, heavenly rare, Mine ears, O peers, doth greet. You gentle flocks, whose fleeces, pearled with dew, Resemble heaven, whom golden drops make bright, Listen, O listen, now, O not to you Our pipes make sport to shorten weary night; But voices most divine Make blissful harmony: Voices that seem to shine, For what else clears the sky? Tunes can we hear, but not the singers see, The tunes divine, and so the singers be. Lo, how the firmament Within an azure fold The flock of stars hath pent, That we might them behold; Yet from their beams proceedeth not this light, Nor can their crystals such reflection give. What then doth make the element so bright? The heavens are come down upon earth to live. Glory to glory's king, And peace all men among, These quiristers do sing. Angels they are, as also (Shepherds) he Whom in our fear we do admire to see. Let not amazement blind Your souls, said he, annoy: To you and all mankind My message bringeth joy. For lo, the world's great Shepherd now is born A blessed babe, an infant full of power: After long night uprisen is the morn, Renowning Bethl'em in the Saviour. Sprung is the perfect day, By prophets seen afar: Sprung is the mirthful May, Which winter cannot mar. In David's city doth this sun appear Clouded in flesh, yet, shepherds, sit we here? Edward Bolton. A shepherd guides his flock of sheep towards the open door of a barn. Trees are in the background, and two chickens stand near what appears to be a circular dressed stone trough in the foreground, which stands by the wall of the barn, next to the doorway. A Shepherd THE SHEPHERDS.Sweet, harmless livers! on whose holy leisure Waits innocence and pleasure; Whose leaders to those pastures and clear springs Were patriarchs, saints, and kings; How happened it that in the dead of night You only saw true light, While Palestine was fast asleep and lay Without one thought of day? Was it because those first and blessÉd swains Were pilgrims on those plains When they received the promise, for which now 'Twas there first shown to you? 'Tis true he loves that dust whereon they go That serve him here below, And therefore might for memory of those His love then first disclose; But wretched Salem, once his love, must now No voice nor vision know; Her stately piles with all their height and pride Now languishÉd and died, And Bethl'em's humble cots above them stept While all her seers slept; Her cedar fir, hewed stones, and gold were all Polluted through their fall; Mere emptiness and show. This made the angel call at reeds and thatch, Yet where the shepherds watch, And God's own lodging, though he could not lack, To be a common rack. No costly pride, no soft-clothed luxury In those thin cells could lie; Each stirring wind and storm blew through their cots, Which never harbored plots; Only content and love and humble joys Lived there without all noise; Perhaps some harmless cares for the next day Did in their bosoms play: As where to lead their sheep, what silent nook, What springs or shades to look; But that was all; and now with gladsome care They for the town prepare; They leave their flock, and in a busy talk All towards Bethl'em walk, To seek their soul's great Shepherd who was come To bring all stragglers home; Where now they find him out, and, taught before, The Lamb of God adore, And longed to see, but missed. The first light they beheld was bright and gay, And turned their night to day; But to this later light they saw in him, Their day was dark and dim. Henry Vaughan. ON SHEPHERDS' PIPES.O than the fairest day, thrice fairer night! Night to blest days in which a sun doth rise Of which that golden age which clears the skies Is but a sparkling ray, a shadow-light! And blessed ye, in silly pastors' sight, Mild creatures, in whose warm crib now lies That heaven-sent youngling, holy-maid-born wight: Midst, end, beginning of our prophecies! Blest cottage that hath flowers in winter spread, Though withered—blessed grass that hath the grace To deck and be a carpet to that place! Thus sang, unto the sounds, of oaten reed, Before the Babe, the shepherds bowed on knees; And springs ran nectar, honey dropped from trees. William Drummond. ANGEL TIDINGS.Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears. We bring the best of news; be not dismayed; A Saviour there is born more old than years, Amidst heaven's rolling height this earth who stayed. In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid A weakling did him bear, who all upbears; There is he poorly swaddled, in manger laid, To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres: Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth. This is that night—no, day, grown great with bliss, In which the power of Satan broken is: In Heaven be glory, peace unto the earth! Thus singing, through the air the angels swam, And cope of stars re-echoÉd the same. William Drummond. THE NEWS-BEARERS.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, 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, 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! 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! O why should this thy soul elate? Sweet music's loudest note, the poet's story,— Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory? And is not war a youthful king, 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. "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, 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; Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away All safety from the night, all comfort from the day. That strife should vanish, battle cease; I'm poor and of a low estate, 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!" Samuel Taylor Coleridge. HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS-DAY.(BEING A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THREE SHEPHERDS.)Where is this blessed Babe That hath made All the world so full of joy And expectation; That glorious boy That crowns each nation With a triumphant wreath of blessedness? Where should he be but in the throng, And among His angel ministers, that sing And take wing Just as may echo to his voice, And rejoice, When wing and tongue and all May so procure their happiness? But he hath other waiters now: A poor cow, An ox and mule, stand and behold, And wonder That a stable should enfold Him that can thunder. O what a gracious God have we, How good! how great! even as our misery. Jeremy Taylor. A HYMN OF THE NATIVITY.(SUNG AS BY THE SHEPHERDS.)Come we shepherds whose blest sight Hath met Love's noon in Nature's night; Come, lift we 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 kist 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 Then e'er he showed 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 looked up and showed his face; In spite of darkness it was day: Not from the East, but from thine eyes. Chorus.—It was thy day, Sweet, etc. 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 frost he scattered flowers. Chorus.—By those sweet eyes, etc. Both. We saw thee in thy balmy nest, Bright dawn of our eternal 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. 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, ye powers of heaven and earth, To fit a bed for this huge birth. Chorus.—Contend, ye powers, etc. Proud world (said I), cease your contest, And let the mighty Babe alone; The Phoenix builds the Phoenix nest, Love's architecture is all one. The Babe whose birth embraves this morn Made his own bed ere he was born. Chorus.—The Babe whose birth, etc. Tityrus. I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow, Come hovering o'er the place's head, Offering 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. Chorus.—Forbear (said I), etc. Thyrsis. I saw the obsequious seraphins 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), etc. Tityrus. No, no, your king's not yet to seek Where to repose his royal head; Twixt's mother's breasts is gone to bed: Sweet choice (said I), no way but so, Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow. Chorus.—Sweet choice (said I), etc. Both. We saw thee in thy balmy nest, Bright dawn of our eternal 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. Chorus.—We saw thee, etc. Full Chorus. Welcome, all wonder in one sight, Eternity shut in a span, Summer in winter, day in night, Heaven in earth and God in man! Great little One! whose all-embracing birth Lifts earth to heaven, stoops heaven to earth. Welcome, though not to gold nor silk, To more than CÆsar's birthright is, Two Sister Seas of Virgin milk With many a rarely-tempered kiss, That breathes at once both Maid and Mother, Warms in the one and cools in the other. 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, though not to those gay flies Gilded i' the beams of earthly kings, Slippery souls in smiling eyes, But to poor shepherds' homespun things; Whose wealth's their flock, whose wit to be Well read in their simplicity. Yet when young April's husband-showers 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 more than they 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, Till burnt at last in fire of thy fair eyes Ourselves become our own best sacrifice. Richard Crashaw. SUNG BY THE SHEPHERD.The New Year is begun, Good-morrow, my masters all! The cheerful rising sun Now shining in this hall, Brings mirth and joy To man and boy. With all that here doth dwell; Whom Jesus bless With love's increase, So all things shall prosper well. A New-Year's gift I bring Unto my master here, Which is a welcome thing Of mirth and merry cheer. A New-Year's lamb Come from thy dam An hour before daybreak, Your noted ewe Doth this bestow, Good master, for your sake. And to my dame so kind This New-Year's gift I bring; Unto her whilst I live. Your white-woolled sheep I'll safely keep From harm of bush or brere, That garments gay For your array May clothe you the next New Year. And to your children all, These New-Year's gifts I bring; And though the price be small, They're fit for queen or king: Fair pippins red Kept in my bed A-mellowing since last year, Whose beauty bright So clear of sight Their hearts will glad and cheer. And to your maids and men I bring both points and pins; Come bid me welcome then, The good New Year begins: And for my love Let me approve The friendship of your Maid, Whose nappy ale, So good and stale, Will make my wits afraid. But in a sober diet: If I, poor shepherd, steal A draught to be unquiet, And lose my way This New-Year's day As I go to my fold, You'll surely think My love of drink This following year will hold. Here stands my bottle and hook, Good kitchen-maid, draw near, Thou art an honest cook, And canst brew ale and beer; Thy office show, Before I go, My bottle and bag come fill, And for thy sake I'll merry make Upon the next green hill. New Christmas Carols. FROM "THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD."AT BETHLEHEM.So m Sir Edwin Arnold. |
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