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 enlightened world no more should need: 
      He saw a greater sun appear
  Than his bright throne or burning axle-tree could bear.

        The shepherds on the lawn,
        Or e’er the point of dawn, ere ever.
    Sat simply chatting in a rustic row: 
        Full little thought they than then.
        That the mighty Pan[112]
    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 loath to lose,
  With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.

        Nature, that heard such sound,
        Beneath the hollow round
    Of Cynthia’s seat[113] the airy 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 shame-faced night arrayed;
        The helmed cherubim
        And sworded seraphim
     Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed,
      Harping in loud and solemn choir,
  With unexpressive[114] notes to heaven’s new-born heir.

        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,[115]
      And cast the dark foundations deep,
  And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.

        Ring out, ye crystal spheres;
        Once bless our human ears—­
    If ye have power to touch our senses so;[116]
        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[117] to the angelic symphony.[118]

        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;[119]
    And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould;
      And hell itself will pass away,
  And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.