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.
