In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies:
Alas! A piteous sight.
This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced He is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud his head.
First what He is inquire:
And orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
Nor beasts that by Him feed;
Weigh not His Mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.2 (Old word for dress)
The crib His chair of state,
The beasts are parcel on His pomp,
The wooden dish His plate;
His royal liveries wear;
The Prince Himself is come from heaven,
This pomp is prized there.
And highly praise His humble pomp,
Which He from heaven doth bring.'