Selected quad for the lemma: nation_n
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A56839
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The shepheards oracles delivered in certain eglogues. By Fra: Quarles.
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Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.; Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644. Shepheards oracle. aut
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1645
(1645)
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Wing Q115A; ESTC R200445
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54,381
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150
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The thing was told To many Shepheards more that dare be bold To call it Truth to Shepheards that were by That heard and saw and shook as well as I. His face was like the visage of a Childe Round smooth and plump and oftentimes it smil'd It glow'd like fier and his rowling eyes Cast flames like Lightning darted from the skyes His haire was long and curl'd and did infold Like knots of wire compos'd of burnisht Gold His body was uncloath'd His skin did show More white then Iv'ry or the new-faln snow Whose perfect whitenesse made a circling light That where it stood it silverd o're the night And as he spake his wings would now and then Spread as he meant to flye then close agen This news he brought 'T was neither Fame nor I That forg'd it Swain Good Angels cannot lye Canst thou beleeve it If thy faith be strong My greater Tidings shall enlarge my tongue VIG I doe Evangelus though for a season My faith was tyding on the streames of reason Yet now the gale of thy report shall drive Her sailes another course my thoughts shall strive Against that streame and what I cannot understand with my heart I will beleeve and wonder But tell me Swaine what happinesse accrews From this Or else relate thy better news EVANG. Then know Vigilius whilst the Angell spake My spirits trembled and my loines did ake Horror and heart-amazing feares possest The fainting powers of my troubled brest And struck my frighted soule into a swound That I lay senselesse prostrate on the ground With that he stretcht his life-restoring arme He rais'd me up and bid me feare no harme Feare not said he I come not to affright Thy gaster'd soule with terrours of the night My errand Shepheard is not to abuse Thine eyes with horrid shapes I bring thee news Tidings of joy and everlasting peace Stand up and let thy faithlesse trembling cease Collect thy scatter'd senses Swaine and heare The happiest newes that ever beg'd an eare Such news whereat th' harmonious quire of heaven Archangels Angels and the other seven Of those Celestiall Hierarchies the troop Of glorious Saints and soules of Prophets stoop Their joyfull eares and being fully freight With joyes sing forth Hosanna's to the height This night a Virgin hath brought forth a Son A perfect God though clad in flesh and bone Like mortall man th' eternall Prince of Rest And Peace in whom all nations shall be blest This night a Virgin hath brought forth a Child A perfect Man but pure and undefil'd With guilt of sin like you in shape and fashion And for your sakes as subject to your passion A perfect God whose selfe-subsisting nature Required not the help of a Creator A perfect man conceived by the power Of th' holy Ghost and borne this very hower A perfect God beyond the comprehending Of man and infinite without an ending A perfect man objected to the eye And touch of Flesh and Blood and borne to dye Like God eternall yet his life a span Like yours a perfect God a perfect man To you a Son is given the heire of glory Whose Kingdome 's endlesse and untransitory To you a child is borne that shall succeed That princely David and of Davids seed A Son is given whose name redeem'd the earth A world of daies before his mothers birth A Child is borne whose last expiring breath Shall give new dayes and dying conquer death A Son a Child compos'd of Earth and Heaven To you a Child is borne a Son is given We blessed Angels have no need at all Of such a Saviour for we cannnot fall The damned spirits of th' Infernall Throne Receive no profit by this Childe this Son To you the glory of so great a gain Belongs To you these tidings appertain To you thrice happy sons of men we bring This welcome errand from th' eternall King Of endlesse mercy the great Lord of Heaven To you this Childe is born this Son is given Goe Shepheards goe to Bethlem and your eyes Shall see the Babe The blessed Infant lyes In a poor Stable swadled in a Manger Goe Swains and entertain this heavenly Stranger Upon your bended knees See yonder Starre Shall be your Pilot where these wonders are And as he spake that word not fully ended Ten thousand Angels in a Troop descended But here my tongue must fail not having might To tell the glory of that glorious sight Nay had I power thine ears would prove as weak To apprehend as my poor tongue 's to speak They joyn'd their warbling notes and in a height Beyond the curious frailty of conceit Their voices sweetned our delighted fears And with this Caroll blest our ravisht ears GLory to God on high and jolly mirth Twixt man and man and peace on earth This night a childe is born This night a Son is given This Son this Childe Hath reconcil'd Poor man that was forlorne And th' angry God of heaven Hosanna sing Hosanna Now now that joyfull Day That blessed howre is come That was foretold In dayes of old Wherein all nations may Blesse blesse the Virgins wombe Hosanna sing Hosanna Let heaven triumph above Let earth rejoyce below Let heaven and earth Be fill'd with mirth For peace and lasting love Atones your God and you Hosanna sing Hosanna With that their Air-dividing plumes they spred And with Hosanna in their mouths they fled But Shepheard ah how far does my report Ah how extreamly my poor words come short To blaze such glory How have I transgrest T' expresse such Raptures not to be exprest VIG O Swain how could I lose my self to hear Thy blest discourse O how my greedy ear Clings to thy cordiall lips whose soveraign breath Brings Antidotes against the fangs of death How happy are these times How blest are wee Above all ages that are born to see This joyfull day whose glory was deny'd To Kings and holy Prophets that rely'd Upon the self-same hopes How more then they Are we poor Shepheards blest to see this day EVANG. O Shepheard had our Princely David seen This happy how'r how had his spirit been Inflam'd with Joy and Zeal What heavenly skill Had passion lent to his diviner Quill What Odes what Lyrick Raptures had inspir'd His ravisht soul that was already fir'd With hopes alone that these rare things should bee In after days which now his eyes should see VIG No question but an infinite delight Had easily sprung from so divine a sight It had bin Joy sufficient that a Sonne Was born to sit upon his Princely Throne O but that Son to be a Saviour too Able to conquer death and overthrow The very Gates of Hell and by his breath To drag his soul from the deep Jaile of death Had bin a Joy too high to be exprest By tongues or trusted to a common brest But hold whilst we endevour to make known Anothers Joy we o're neglect our own The day is broke The Eastern Lamps begin To fail and draw