Page:Comus and other poems - Milton (1906).djvu/70

 See how from far upon the Eastern rode The Star-led Wisards haste with odours sweet: O run, prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first, thy Lord to greet,
 * And joyn thy voice unto the Angel Quire,

From out his secret Altar toucht with hallow'd fire.

It was the Winter wilde, While the Heav'n-born-childe,
 * All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;

Nature in aw to him Had doff't her gawdy trim,
 * With her great Master so to sympathize:

It was no season then for her To wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour.

Onely with speeches fair She woo's the gentle Air
 * To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow,

And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinfull blame,
 * The Saintly Vail of Maiden white to throw,

Confounded, that her Makers eyes Should look so neer upon her foul deformities. Rh