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Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.

Christmas Carol

CXVIII. Anonymous

MY sweet little babie, what meanest thou to cry?

Be still, my blessed babe, though cause thou hast to mourne,

Whose blood most innocent the cruell king hath sworne;

And lo! alas! behold! what slaughter he doth make,

Shedding the blood of infants all, sweet Sauiour, for thy sake.

A King is born, they say, which King this king would kill:

Oh! woe, and woefull heauy day, when wretches haue their will!

Three kings this King of kings to see are come from farre,

To each unknowen, with offerings great, by guiding of a starre;

As shepherds heard the song, which angels bright did sing,

Giving all glory unto God for coming of this King,

Which must be made away—king Herod would him kill;

Oh! woe, and woefull heauy day, when wretches haue their will!

Loe! my little babe, be still, lament no more:

From furie thou shalt step aside, helpe haue we still in store:

We heauenly warning haue some other soyle to seeke;

From death must fly the Lord of life, as lamb both milde and meeke:

Thus must my babe obey the king that would him kill:

Oh! woe, and woefull heauy day, when wretches haue their will!

But thou shalt liue and reigne, as Dauid hath forsay’d,

And prophets prophesied***

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Whom caytiues none can ’traye, whom tyrants none can kill:

Oh! joy and joyfull happy day, when wretches want their will!