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And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.
XI. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shame-fac'd night ar
ray'd ; The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim,
Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, Harping in loud and solemn choir, With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir.
But when of old the sons of morning sung,
And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung,
XIII. Ring out, ye crystal Spheres, Once bless our human ears,
(If ye have power to touch our senses so,)
And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow;
Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold;
And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould
Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering;
The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy,
So both himself and us to glorify:
While the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake;
Shall from the surface to the centre shake ; When at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his
But now begins ; for from this happy day
Not half so far cast his usurped sway,
Runs through the arched roof in words decciring.
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic cell.
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
The parting Genius is with sighing sent:
The Lares and Lemures moan with midnight plaint;
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
And the chill marble seems to sweat,
With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine ;
Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine ;
His burning idol all of blackest hue ;
In dismal dance about the furnace blue :
Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud :
Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud ; In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark.
XXV. He feels from Judah's land The dreaded Infant's hand,
The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyne;
Nor all the gods besides,
Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine :
So when the sun in bed,
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave;
But see, the Virgin-bless'd
Time is, our tedious song should here have ending:
Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending : And all about the courtly stable Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.
EREWHILE of music, and etherial mirth,
* This poem appears to have been composed soon after the Ode on tho Nativity.