IT WAS THE WINTER WILD,

While the heaven-born child

All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;

Nature in awe to him

Had doffed her gaudy trim,

With her great master so to sympathize:

It was no season then for her

To wanton with the Sun her lusty paramour.

No war, or battle’s sound

Was heard the world around:

The idle spear and shield were high uphung;

The hooked chariot stood

Unstained 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.

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 kissed,

Whispering 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 fixed in steadfast gaze,

Bending one way their precious influence,

And will not take their flight,

For all the morning light,

Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;

But in their glimmering orbs did glow,

Until their Lord Himself bespake, and bid them go.

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-enlightened 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

Or ere 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

Their hearts and ears did greet,

As never was by mortal finger struck,

Divinely-warbled voice

Answering the stringed noise,

As all their souls in blissful rapture took:

The air such pleasure loath to lose,

With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.

At last surrounds their sight

A globe of circular light,

That with long beams the shamefaced night arrayed,

The helmed cherubim,

And sworded seraphim,

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed,

Harping in loud and solemn choir,

With unexpressive notes to heaven’s new-born heir.

JOHN MILTON, 1608–1674¹⁸