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POEMS. 173
Our babe to fhow his godhead true,
Can in his fwadling bands control the damned crew.
So when the fun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
26.
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
The flocking fhadows pale
Troop to th' infernal jail,
Each fetter'd ghoft flips
to his feveral grave,
And the yellow-lkirted Fayes
Fly after the maze.
night-fteeds, leaving their moon-lov'd
But fee the virgin bleft
27.
Hath laid her babe to reft,
Time is our tedious fong fliould here have ending:
Heav'n's youngeft teemed ftar
Hath fix'd her polifh'd car,
Her fleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending:
And all about the courtly ftable
Bright-harneft angels
fit in order ferviceable.
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IV.
THE PASSION.
Erewhile of mufic, and ethereal mirth,
Wherewith the ftage of air and earth did ring,
And joyous news of heav'nly infant's birth,
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