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THE SHEPHEARD'S SONG:
A CAROLL OR HIMNE FOR CHRISTMAS.
Sweet Musicke, sweeter farre
Then any song is sweet: Sweet Musicke heauenly rare,
Mine eares, O peeres, doth greete. Yon gentle flocks, whose fleeces, pearl'd with dewe,
Resemble heaven, whom golden drops make bright: Listen, O listen, now, O not to you
Our pipes make sport to shorten wearie night. But voyces most diuine
Make blissfull harmonie: Voyces that seeme to shine, For what else cleares the skie ? Tunes can we heare, but not the singers see, The tunes diuine, and so the singers be.
Loe how the firmament Within an azure fold The flock of starres hath pent, That we might them behold. Yet from their beanies proceedeth not this light,
Nor can their christals such reflection giue. What then doth make the element so bright? The heauens are come downe vpon earth to Hue. |
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