Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been, Tell him Thyrsis, what th' hast seen. 15 TITYRUS. Gloomy night embrac't the place Where the noble Infant lay. The Babe look't vp and shew'd His face ; In spite of darknes, it was day. It was Thy day, Sweet! and did rise Not from the East, but from Thine eyes. Chorus. It was Thy day, Sweet. THYRSIS. Winter chidde aloud, and sent The angry North to wage his warres. The North forgott his feirce intent, And left perfumes in stead of scarres. By those sweet eyes' persuasiue powrs Where he mean't frost, he scatter'd flowrs. Chorus. By those sweet eyes. Вотн. We saw Thee in Thy baulmy-nest, Young dawn of our æternall Day! 20 25 30 We saw Thine eyes break from their East Azi chase the trembling shades away. 35 We saw Thee; and we blest the sight, We saw Thee by Thine Own sweet light. Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been, 15 TITYRUS. Gloomy night embrac't the place Where the noble Infant lay. The Babe look't vp and shew'd His face; In spite of darknes, it was day. It was Thy day, Sweet! and did rise Chorus. It was Thy day, Sweet. 20 The angry North to wage his warres. 25 The North forgott his feirce intent, And left perfumes in stead of scarres. By those sweet eyes' persuasiue powrs Where he mean't frost, he scatter'd flowrs. Chorus. By those sweet eyes. Вотн. We saw Thee in Thy baulmy-nest, Young dawn of our æternall Day! We saw Thine eyes break from their East 30 And chase the trembling shades away. We saw Thee; and we blest the sight, We saw Thee by Thine Own sweet light. 35 TITYRUS. Poor world (said I), what wilt thou doe To entertain this starry Stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow? A cold, and not too cleanly, manger? Contend, the powres of Heau'n and Earth, To fitt a bed for this huge birthe? Chorus, Contend the powers. THYRSIS. Proud world, said I, cease your contest And let the mighty Babe alone. The phenix builds the phonix' nest, Loy's architecture is his own. The Babe whose birth embraues this morn, Made His Own bed e're He was born. Chorus. The Babe whose.... TITYRUS. I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow. Come houering o're the place's head; Offring their whitest sheets of snow To furnish the fair Infant's bed: 40 45 50 Forbear, said I; be not too bold, Your fleece is white but 'tis too cold. Chorus. Forbear, sayd I. 55 THYRSIS. I saw the obsequious Seraphims Their rosy fleece of fire bestow. |