RICHARD CRASHAW
3 49 Verses from the Shepherd's Hymn r E saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, Young dawn of our eternal day, We saw Thine eyes break from the East,
And chase the trembling shades away. We saw Thee, and we blest the sight, We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light. Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do
To entertain this starry stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow
A cold and not too cleanly manger? Contend, the powers of heaven and earth, To fit a bed for this huge birth. Pioud world, said I, cease your contest,
And let the mighty Babe alone, The phoenix builds the phcrnix' nest,
Love's architecture is His own. The Babe, whose birth embraves this morn, Made His own bed ere He was born. I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow,
Come hovering o'er the place's head, Off'ring their whitest sheets of snow,
To furnish the fair infant's bed. Forbear, said I, be not too bold, Your fleece is white, but 'tis too cold. I saw th' obsequious seraphim
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow, For well they now can spare their wings,
Since Heaven itself lies here below. Well done, said I; but are you sure Your down, so warm, will pass for pure?
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