JOHN MILTON. BORN 1608; DIED 1674. It might justly be deemed needless, or impertinent, to preface the ensuing extracts with any other remark than this--that the motive which governed the choice of them, was to take such pieces only as are worthy of the greatest name in the sacred poetry of England, and, at the same time, of less trite occurrence than some others, in our miscellaneous collections. MILTON. THE HYMN. IT was the winter wild, While the heav'n-born child, All meanly wrapt, in the rude manger lies: Nature in awe to him Had doff'd 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, crown'd 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 up hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sate still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sov'reign Lord was by. But peaceful was the night His reign of peace upon the earth began: Smoothly the waters kiss'd Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. The stars with deep amaze Bending one way their precious influence; And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence; But in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. |