XXV. He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn: Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide; Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew. The flocking shadows pale Troop to th' infernal jail; Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; And the yellow-skirted fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze. But see, the Virgin blest XXVII, Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending: Heav'ns youngest teemed star Hath fixt her polisht car, Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending; And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnest angels sit in order serviceable. 225 230 235 240 L'ALLEGRO. HENCE, loathed Melancholy! Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy: Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. But come, thou goddess fair and free, In Heav'n yclep'd Euphrosyne And by men, heart-easing Mirth; 5 10 With two sister Graces more, 15 To live with her, and live with thee, The clouds in thousand liveries dight: Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Where the nibbling flocks do stray; And then in haste her bower she leaves, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold; 120 With store of ladies, whose bright eyes And ever, against eating cares, 125 130 135 |