Thus reignes the wrathfull king, and while he reignes, His scepter and himselfe both he disdaines.

X.

Disdainefull wretch! how hath one bold sinne cost Thee all the beauties of thy once bright eyes!

How hath one black eclipse cancell'd, and crost The glories that did gild thee in thy rise!

Proud morning of a perverse day! how lost Art thou unto thy selfe, thou too selfe-wise Narcissus! foolish Phaeton! who for all Thy high-aym'd hopes, gaind'st but a flaming fall.

XI.

From Death's sad shades to the life-breathing ayre, This mortall enemy to mankind's good, Lifts his malignant eyes, wasted with care, To become beautifull in humane blood.

Where Iordan melts his chrystall, to make faire The fields of Palestine, with so pure a flood, There does he fixe his eyes: and there detect New matter, to make good his great suspect.

XII.

He calls to mind th' old quarrell, and what sparke Set the contending sons of Heav'n on fire: Oft in his deepe thought he revolves the darke Sibill's divining leaves: he does enquire Into th' old prophesies, trembling to marke How many present prodigies conspire, To crowne their past predictions, both he layes Together, in his pondrous mind both weighs.

XIII.

Heaven's golden-winged herald, late he saw To a poore Galilean virgin sent: How low the bright youth bow'd, and with what awe Immortall flowers to her faire hand present.

He saw th' old Hebrewe's wombe, neglect the law Of age and barrennesse, and her babe prevent _antic.i.p.ate_ His birth by his devotion, who began Betimes to be a saint, before a man.

XIV.

He saw rich nectar-thawes, release the rigour Of th' icy North; from frost-bound Atlas hands, His adamantine fetters fall: green vigour Gladding the Scythian rocks and Libian sands.

He saw a vernall smile, sweetly disfigure Winter's sad face, and through the flowry lands Of faire Engaddi, hony-sweating fountaines With manna, milk, and balm, new-broach the mountaines.

XV.

He saw how in that blest Day-bearing Night, The Heav'n-rebuked shades made hast away; How bright a dawne of angels with new light Amaz'd the midnight world, and made a Day Of which the Morning knew not. Mad with spight He markt how the poore shepheards ran to pay Their simple tribute to the Babe, Whose birth Was the great businesse both of Heav'n and Earth.

XVI.

He saw a threefold Sun, with rich encrease Make proud the ruby portalls of the East.

He saw the Temple sacred to sweet Peace, Adore her Prince's birth, flat on her brest.

He saw the falling idolls, all confesse A comming Deity: He saw the nest Of pois'nous and unnaturall loves, Earth-nurst, Toucht with the World's true antidote, to burst.

XVII.

He saw Heav'n blossome with a new-borne light, On which, as on a glorious stranger gaz'd The golden eyes of Night: whose beame made bright The way to Beth'lem and as boldly blaz'd, (Nor askt leave of the sun) by day as night.

By whom (as Heav'ns ill.u.s.trious hand-maid) rais'd, Three kings (or what is more) three wise men went Westward to find the World's true orient.

XVIII.

Strucke with these great concurrences of things, Symptomes so deadly unto Death and him; Faine would he have forgot what fatall strings Eternally bind each rebellious limbe.

He shooke himselfe, and spread his spatious wings: Which like two bosom'd sailes, embrace the dimme Aire, with a dismall shade; but all in vaine: Of st.u.r.dy adamant is his strong chaine.

XIX.

While thus Heav'n's highest counsails, by the low Footsteps of their effects, he trac'd too well, He tost his troubled eyes: embers that glow Now with new rage, and wax too hot for h.e.l.l: With his foule clawes he fenc'd his furrowed brow, And gave a gastly shreeke, whose horrid yell Ran trembling through the hollow vaults of Night, The while his twisted tayle he gnaw'd for spight.

XX.

Yet on the other side, faine would he start Above his feares, and thinke it cannot be.

He studies Scripture, strives to sound the heart And feele the pulse of every prophecy; He knows (but knowes not how, or by what art) The Heav'n-expecting ages hope to see A mighty Babe, Whose pure, unspotted birth From a chast virgin wombe, should blesse the Earth.

XXI.

But these vast mysteries his senses smother, And reason (for what's faith to him?) devoure.

How she that is a maid should prove a mother, Yet keepe inviolate her virgin flower; How G.o.d's eternall Sonne should be Man's brother, Poseth his proudest intellectuall power.

How a pure Spirit should incarnate bee, And Life it selfe weare Death's fraile livery.

XXII.

That the great angell-blinding Light should shrinke His blaze, to shine in a poore shepherd's eye: That the unmeasur'd G.o.d so low should sinke, As pris'ner in a few poore rags to lye: That from His mother's brest He milke should drinke, Who feeds with nectar Heav'n's faire family: That a vile manger His low bed should prove, Who in a throne of stars thunders above.

XXIII.

That He Whom the sun serves, should faintly peepe Through clouds of infant flesh: that He the old Eternall Word should be a child, and weepe: That He Who made the fire, should feare the cold: That Heav'n's high Majesty His court should keepe In a clay-cottage, by each blast control'd: That Glorie's Self should serve our griefs and feares, And free Eternity, submit to yeares.

XXIV.

And further, that the Lawe's eternall Giver Should bleed in His Owne Lawe's obedience: And to the circ.u.mcising knife deliver Himselfe, the forfet of His slave's offence: That the unblemisht Lambe, blessed for ever, Should take the marke of sin, and paine of sence.

These are the knotty riddles, whose darke doubt Intangles his lost thoughts, past getting out.

XXV.

While new thoughts boyl'd in his enraged brest, His gloomy bosome's darkest character Was in his shady forehead seen exprest: The forehead's shade in Griefe's expression there, Is what in signe of joy among the blest The face's lightning, or a smile is here.

Those stings of care that his strong heart opprest, A desperate, Oh mee! drew from his deepe brest.

XXVI.

Oh mee! (thus bellow'd he) Oh mee! what great Portents before mine eyes their powers advance?