VII.

So, seeing my corruption, can I see This Incorruptible now born of me, This fair new Innocence no sun did chance To shine on, (for even Adam was no child,) Created from my nature all defiled, This mystery, from out mine ignorance,-- Nor feel the blindness, stain, corruption, more Than others do, or _I_ did heretofore? Can hands wherein such burden pure has been, Not open with the cry "unclean, unclean," More oft than any else beneath the skies? Ah King, ah, Christ, ah son! The kine, the shepherds, the abased wise Must all less lowly wait Than I, upon Thy state. Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!