III.

Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek
Him in the morning's blushing cheek,

Or search the beds of spices through,

To find Him out?

But only come and see Him rest,

A Princely Babe, in's mother's breast.

Chorus.

He's seen! He's seen! why then around,
Let's kiss the sweet and holy ground;

And all rejoice that we have found
A King, before conception, crowned.

IV.

Come then, come then, and let us bring
Unto our pretty twelfth-tide King,

Each one his several offering.

AN ODE ON THE BIRTH OF OUR

SAVIOUR.

[THIS also is from the pen of Herrick.

The expression

scorn," in the fourth line, although sounding strangely to modern ears, is a term frequently to be met with in old popular literature. It occurs in God rest you Merry Gentlemen, and other Carols in this collection.]

N numbers, and but these few,
I sing thy birth, Oh Jesu!
Thou pretty Baby, born here,

With sup'rabundant scorn here;
Who for Thy princely port here,
Hadst for Thy place

Of Birth, a base

Out-stable for thy court here.

Instead of neat inclosures

Of interwoven osiers ;

Instead of fragrant posies,

Of daffodils, and roses;

Thy cradle, Kingly Stranger,
As Gospel tells,

Was nothing else

But, here, a homely manger.

But we with silks, not cruells,1 With sundry precious jewels, And lily-work will dress Thee: And as we dispossess Thee

Of clouds, we'll make a chamber,

Sweet Babe, for Thee

Of ivory,

And plastered round with amber.

The Jews, they did disdain Thee, But we will entertain Thee

With glories to await here

Upon Thy princely state here;

And more for love than pity,

CHRISTMAS DAY.

[GEORGE WITHER, the author of the following Carol, was both a poet and soldier in the time of the Civil Wars. In the former character, however, he is better known to posterity. His poems, of which he has left us several small volumes, are graceful and tender, and some of them are invariably included in all collections of old poetry. Mr. Russell Smith has recently reprinted, in a very handsome form, his Hymns and Songs of the Church.]

S on the night before this happy morn,
A blessed angel unto shepherds told,
Where (in a stable) He was poorly born,

Whom nor the earth, nor heaven of heavens can hold:

Through Bethlem rung

This news at their return:

Yea, angels sung

That God with us was born;

And they made mirth because we should not mourn.

Their angel-carol sing we, then,
To God on high all glory be,
For peace on earth bestoweth He,
And showeth favor unto men.

This favor Christ vouchsafed for our sake ;
To buy us thrones, He in a manger lay ;
Our weakness took, that we His strength might take;
And was disrobed that He might us array;

And wept for us, that we might sing for aye.

With angels, therefore, sing again,

To God on high all glory be;
For peace on earth bestoweth He,

And showeth favor unto men.