Note 29 — Chapter III · CHRISTMAS POETRY (II)

“I come from heaven to tell The best nowells that ever befell; To you thir tidings true I bring, And I will of them say and sing. This day to you is born ane child, Of Mary meek and virgin mild, That blessed bairn, benign and kind, Sall you rejoice, baith heart and mind. My soul and life, stand up and see What lies in ane crib of tree [wood]. What Babe is that, so gude and fair? It is Christ, Goddis Son and Heir. O God! that made all creature, How art Thou now become so puir, That on the hay and stray will lie, Among the asses, oxen, and kye? O, my dear heart, young Jesus sweet, Prepare Thy cradle in my spreit, And I sall rock Thee in my heart, And never mair from Thee depart But I sall praise Thee ever moir, With sangis sweet unto Thy gloir; The knees of my heart sall I bow, And sing that richt Balulalow.”{30}