III.

But he, her fears to cease,

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Sent down the meek-ey'd 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 an universal peace through sea and land,

Nor war, or battle's sound

Was heard the world around:

IV.

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The idle spear and shield were high up hung;

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The booked chariot stood

Unstain'd with hostile blood;

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;

And kings sat still with awful eye,

As if they surely knew their sovereign lord was by.

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V.

But peaceful was the night,

Wherein the prince of light

His reign of peace upon the earth began:

The winds, with wonder whist,

Smoothly the waters kist,

Whisp'ring 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,

Stand fix'd in stedfast gaze,

VI.

Bending one way their precious influence;

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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.

VII.

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-enlighten'd world no more should need;

He saw a greater sun appear

Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear.

The shepherds on the lawn,

VIII.

Or e'er the point of dawn,

Sat simply chatting in a rustic row;

Full little thought they then,

That the mighty Pan

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

IX.

Their hearts and ears did greet,

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As never was by mortal finger strook ;

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Divinely warbled voice

Answering the stringed noise,

As all their souls in blissful rapture took :

The air, such pleasure loth to lose,

With thousand echoes still prolongs each heav'nly close. 100

X.

Nature that heard such sound,

Beneath the hollow round

Of Cynthia's seat, 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 Heav'n and earth in happier union.

At last surrounds their sight

A globe of circular light,

XI.

That with long beams the shame-fac'd night array'd;

The helmed cherubim,

And sworded seraphim,

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd Harping in lond and solemn quire,

With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir.

Such music (as 'tis said)

XII.

Before was never made,

But when of old the sons of morning sung,

While the Creator great

His constellation set,

And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung;

And cast the dark foundations deep,

And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep.

XIII.

Ring out, ye crystal Spheres,

Once bless our human ears,

(If ye

have pow'r to touch our senses so :)

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And let your silver chime

Move in melodious time;

And let the base of Heav'n's deep organ blow;

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And, with your ninefold harmony,

Make up full concert to th' angelic symphony.

XIV.

For, if such holy song

Inwrap our fancy long,

Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold;

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And speckled vanity

Will sicken soon and die,

And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould:

And hell itself will pass away,

And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.

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XV.

Yea, Truth and Justice then

Will down return to men,

Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,

Mercy will sit between,

Thron'd in celestial sheen

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With radiant feet the tissu'd clouds down steering;

And Heav'n, as at some festival,

Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.

The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep;

XVII.

With such a horrid clang

As on mount Sinai rang,

While the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake :

The aged earth aghast,

With terror of that blast,

Shall from the surface to the centre shake;

When, at the world's last session,

The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.

And then at last our bliss

Full and perfect is,

XVIII.

But now begins; for, from this happy day,

Th' old Dragon, under ground

In straiter limits bound,

Not half so far casts his usurped sway;

And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,

Swindges the scaly horror of his folded tail.

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Inspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic cell.

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XX.

The lonely mountains o'er,

And the resounding shore,

A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;