Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
      Afford a present to the infant God? 
    Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain
      To welcome him to this his new abode,
      Now while the heaven, by the sun’s team untrod,
    Hath took no print of the approaching light,
  And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?

    See how, from far upon the eastern road,
      The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet! 
    O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
      And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;
      Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet;
    And join thy voice unto the angel choir,
  From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.

  THE HYMN.

        It was the winter wild
        While the heaven-born child
    All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
        Nature, in awe to him,
        Had doffed her gaudy trim,
    With her great master so to sympathize: 
      It was no season then for her
  To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.

        Only with speeches fair
        She woos the gentle air
    To hide her guilty front with innocent snow;
        And on her naked shame,
        Pollute with sinful blame,
    The saintly veil of maiden white to throw;
      Confounded that her maker’s eyes
  Should look so near upon her foul deformities.

        But he, her fears to cease,
        Sent down the meek-eyed Peace. 
    She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding
        Down through the turning sphere,
        His ready harbinger,
    With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;
      And waving wide her myrtle wand,
  She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.

        No war, or battle’s sound,
        Was heard the world around;
    The idle spear and shield were high uphung;
        The hooked chariot stood
        Unstained with hostile blood;
    The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
        And kings sat still with awful eye, awe-filled.
  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, silent.
        Smoothly the water kissed,
    Whispering new joys to the mild Oceaen,
      Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
  While birds of calm[110] sit brooding on the charmed wave.

        The stars with deep amaze
        Stand fixed in stedfast gaze,
    Bending one way their precious influence;
        And will not take their flight
        For all the morning light,
    Or Lucifer,[111] that often warned them thence;
      But in their glimmering orbs did glow
  Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.