Mary. Ah Joseph, husband, my child waxeth cold
And we have no fire to warm him with.
Joseph. Now in my arms I shall him fold,
King of all kings by field and by frith,[229]
He might have had better, and himself would
Than the breathing of these beasts to warm him with.
Mary. Now, Joseph, my husband, fetch hither my child,
The maker of man, and high King of bliss.
Joseph. That shall be done, anon, Mary so mild!
For the breathing of these beasts hath warmed him, I wis.
1st Angel. Herdmen kind, dread ye nothing,
Of this star that ye do see;
For this same morn God's son is born,
In Bethlem of a maiden fre.[230]
2nd Angel. Hie you hither in haste,
It is his will ye shall him see
Lying in a crib of poor repast;
Yet of David's line come is he.
1st Shepherd. Hail, maid-mother, and wife so mild!
As the angel said, so have we found,
I have nothing to present to thy child,
But my pipe; hold, hold! take it in thy hand;
Wherein much pleasure that I have found,
And now to honour thy glorious birth,
Thou shalt it have to make thee mirth.
2nd Shepherd. Now, hail be thou, child, and thy dame,
For in a poor lodging here art thou laid;
So the angel said, and told us thy name.
Hold, take thou here my hat on thy head,
And now of one thing thou art well sped;
For weather thou hast no cause to complain,
For wind, nor sun, hail, snow, and rain.
3rd Shepherd. Hail, be thou Lord over water and lands
For thy coming all we may make mirth,
Have here my mittens to put on thy hands
Other treasure have I none to present thee with.
Mary. Now, herdmen kind,
For your coming,
To my child shall I pray,
As he is heaven's king,
To grant you his blessing,
And to his bliss that ye may wynd[231]
At your last day.