But who is this, what thing of sea or land,- Female of sex it seems,- That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play, An amber scent of odorous perfume Her harbinger?

Dark with excessive bright.

Farewell happy fields, Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.

It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born child, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.

Hail holy light, offspring of heav'n firstborn!

At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.

Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks; methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.