REDEMPTION. 119
The cheerless shelter, thankful they accept,
To screen them, way-worn, from night's piercing blasts.
Fair Cynthia half her course had measured *'er With silvery beams ; and, past the zenith, Oblique with silent step, took westward way, When Gabriel, who all night long, and all The weary way from Nazareth, had led The Virgin undefiled, to Bethlehem's crib, His shining legions, many a phalanx, Drew, close and deep, around the lowly spot; Then on his trumpet of ethereal mold, Th' appointed signal blew; not terrible, As that which waked the echoing hills round Sinai's awful top, yet in full cadence Breathing, loud and clear; such that the heav'ns heard, Her golden gates wide oped, which music made, Melodious music made, and, answering, Her sons, in numbers numberless, call'd down To see the Sun of righteousness arise; For at that instant, without pain, Jesus, The Son of God, passed from the Virgin's womb, And calm reposed within the Virgin's arms. Divine effulgence, pour'd on Bethlehem's crib, (Native to heav'n, and heav'n's eternal throne,) Diffused ineffable the place around. Brighter than that which shone on Moses's face, When from the Mount, talking with God, he came; Or than that mountain where Eliseus stood, At Dothan, and beheld around him gleam Chariots of heav'nly fire and glitt'ring steeds. But to the glory of that other mount, Likest it seem'd, whereon transfigured stood
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