3 min read
Слушать

Satan

Below the bottom of the great Abyss,

There where one centre reconciles all things,

The world's profound heart pants; there placed

Mischief's old Master! close about him clingsA curled knot of embracing snakes, that

His correspondent cheeks: these loathsome

Hold the perverse prince in eternal ties,

Fast bound since first he forfeited the skies.

Heaven's golden-winged herald late he

To a poor Galilean virgin sent;

How long the bright youth bowed, and with what

Immortal flowers to her fair hand present:

He saw the old Hebrew's womb neglect the

Of age and barrenness; and her Babe prevent His birth by his devotion, who

Betimes to be a saint before a man!

Yet, on the other side, fain would he start Above his fears, and think it cannot be:

He studies Scripture, strives to sound the

And feel the pulse of every prophecy,

He knows, but knows not how, or by what

The heaven-expecting ages hope to seeA mighty Babe, whose pure, unspotted

From a chaste virgin womb should bless the earth!

But these vast mysteries his senses smother,

And reason, — for what's faith to him! — devour,

How she that is a maid should prove a mother,

Yet keep inviolate her virgin flower:

How God's eternal Son should be man's brother,

Poseth his proudest intellectual power;

How a pure spirit should incarnate be,

And life itself wear death's frail livery.

That the great angel-blinding light should

His blaze, to shine in a poor shepherd's eye;

That the unmeasured God so low should

As prisoner in a few poor rags to lie; milk should drink,

Who feeds with nectar Heaven's fair family;

That a vile manger his low bed should

Who in a throne of stars thunders above.

That He whom the sun serves, should faintly

Through clouds of infant flesh: that He the

Eternal Word would be a child, and weep;

That He who made the fire should feel the cold;

That Heaven's high Majesty his court should

In a clay-cottage, by each blast controlled:

That Glory's self should serve our griefs and fears:

And free Eternity submit to years.

0
0
113
Give Award

Richard Crashaw

Richard Crashaw (c. 1613 – 21 August 1649) was an English poet, teacher, High Church Anglican cleric and Roman Catholic convert, who was among t…

Other author posts

Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments

Reading today

Зеркальное отражение
Я улыбку твою полюбил за износ
Ryfma
Ryfma is a social app for writers and readers. Publish books, stories, fanfics, poems and get paid for your work. The friendly and free way for fans to support your work for the price of a coffee
© 2024 Ryfma. All rights reserved 12+