WHISPERING PALMS.
Holy angels and blest, Through these Palms as ye sweep, Hold their branches at rest, For my Babe is asleep.
And ye, Bethlehem palm-trees, As stormy winds rush In tempest and fury Your angry noise hush;-- Move gently, move gently, Restrain your wild sweep; Hold your branches at rest-- My Babe is asleep.
_Lope de Vega._
A CHRISTMAS LULLABY.
Sleep, baby, sleep! The Mother sings; Heaven"s angels kneel and fold their wings: Sleep, baby, sleep!
With swathes of scented hay thy bed By Mary"s hand at eve was spread.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
At midnight came the shepherds, they Whom seraphs wakened by the way.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
And three kings from the East afar Ere dawn came, guided by thy star.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
They brought thee gifts of gold and gems, Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
But thou who liest slumbering there, Art King of kings, earth, ocean, air.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing: Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
_John Addington Symonds._
THE VIRGIN"S CRADLE-HYMN.
Dormi, Jesu! Mater ridet Quae tam dulcem somnum videt, Dormi, Jesu! blandule!
Si non dormis, Mater plorat Inter fila cantans orat, Blande, veni, somnule.
_Translation._
Sleep, sweet babe! my cares beguiling: Mother sits beside thee smiling; Sleep, my darling, tenderly!
If thou sleep not, mother mourneth, Singing as her wheel she turneth: Come soft slumber, balmily!
_Samuel Taylor Coleridge._
THE SOVEREIGN.
Upon my lap my sovereign sits And sucks upon my breast; Meantime his love maintains my life And gives my sense her rest.
Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
When thou hast taken thy repast, Repose, my babe, on me; So may thy mother and thy nurse Thy cradle also be.
Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
I grieve that duty doth not work All that my wishing would, Because I would not be to thee But in the best I should.
Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
Yet as I am, and as I may I must and will be thine, Though all too little for thyself Vouchsafing to be mine.
Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
_Martin Peerson, A.D. 1620._
BY THE CRADLE-SIDE.
Sweet dreams, form a shade O"er my lovely infant"s head!
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams By happy, silent, moony beams!
Sweet sleep, with soft down Weave thy brows an infant crown!
Sweet sleep, angel mild, Hover o"er my happy child!
Sweet smiles, in the night Hover over my delight!
Sweet smiles, mother"s smile All the livelong night beguile.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
Sweet moan, sweeter smile, All the dovelike moans beguile!
Sleep, sleep, happy child!
All creation slept and smiled.
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep, While o"er thee doth mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face Holy image I can trace; Sweet babe, once like thee Thy Maker lay and wept for me:
Wept for me, for thee, for all, When he was an infant small; Thou his image ever see, Heavenly face that smiles on thee!