Tryste Noël

THE OX he openeth wide the Doore,

And from the Snowe he calls her inne,

And he hath seen her Smile therefor,

Our Ladye without Sinne.

Now soon from Sleep

A Starre shall leap,

And soone arrive both King and Hinde:

Amen, Amen:

But O, the Place co’d I but finde!

The Ox hath hush’d his voyce and bent

Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow,

And on his lovelie Neck, forspent,

The Blessed layes her Browe.

Around her feet

Full Warme and Sweete

His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell:

Amen, Amen:

But sore am I with Vaine Travèl!

The Ox is host in Judah stall

And Host of more than onelie one.

For close she gathereth withal

Our Lorde her littel Sonne.

Glad Hinde and King

Their Gyfte may bring,

But wo’d to-night my Teares were there,

Amen, Amen:

Between her Bosom and His hayre!