His stable is
a Prince’s courte,
The cribbe His
chaire of State;
The beastes
are parcell of
His pompe,
The wodden dishe,
His plate.
Robert Southwell The Lion's Noël
A Book of Christmas Beasts
III. The March of the Camels
The Journey of the Magi, James Jacques Joseph Tissot, France, 1894
From "The Song of the Camels"
Not born to the forest are we, not
Born to the plain,
To the grass and the shadowed tree,
And the splashing of rain,
Only the sand we know
And the cloudless sky,
The mirage and the deep-sunk well
And the stars on high.
To the sound of our bells we came
With huge soft stride,
Kings riding upon our backs,
And the slaves at our side.
Out of the East drawn on
By a dream and a star,
Seeking the hills and the groves
Where the fixed towns are.
Our goal was no palace gate,
No temple of old,
But a child in his mother's lap,
In the cloudy cold.
Elizabeth Coatsworth, 1893-1986
From "The Camel"
Some people criticize
my four flat feet,
the base of my pile of joints,
but what should I do
with high heels
crossing so much country,
such shifting dreams,
while upholding my dignity?
My heart wrung
by the cries of jackals and hyenas,
by the burning silence,
the magnitude of Your cold stars,
I give You thanks, Lord,
for this my realm,
wide as my longings
and the passage of my steps.
Carrying my royalty
in the aristocratic curve of my neck
from oasis to oasis,
one day shall I find again
the caravan of the magi?
And the gates of Your paradise?
Amen.
Carmen Bernos de Gasztold, 1919-1995
Translated by Rumer Godden
An excerpt from
Prière
du Chameau
j’arriverai
peut-être un jour
à retrouver
la caravane de
Mages
Carmen Bernos de Gasztold, 1919-1995
We Three Kings
We three kings of orient are,
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain,
Moor and mountain,
Following yonder star.
O star of wonder, star of night,
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright.
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.
[Melchior:]
[Melchior:]
Born a King on Bethlehem's plain,
Gold I bring to crown Him again
King for ever, ceasing never
Over us all to reign.
[Casper:]
[Casper:]
Frankincense to offer have I,
Incense owns a Deity nigh.
Prayer and praising, all men raising,
Worship Him, God most high.
[Balthazar:]
[Balthazar:]
Myrrh is mine;
Its bitter perfume breathes
A life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in the stone cold tomb.
Glorious now behold Him arise,
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice!
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Heaven to earth replies.
O star of wonder, star of night,
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright.
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.
Choral setting of this carol performed by the choir at King's College, Cambridge
From "Camels of the Kings"
All night we have run under the moon,
Without effort, breathing lightly,
Smooth as a breeze over the desert floor,
One white star our compass.
We have come to no palace, no place
Of towers and minarets and the calling of servants,
But a poor stable in a poor town.
So why are we bending our crested necks?
Why are our proud heads bowed
And our eyes closed meekly?
Why are we outside this hovel,
Humbly and awkwardly kneeling?
Here ends
The March of
the Camels
______________________________
The verse from the title page in modern typeface:
His stable is a Prince's courte,
The cribb His chaire of State;
The beastes are parcell of His pompe,
The wodden dishe, His plate.
Robert Southwell, from New Prince, New Pomp
The cribb His chaire of State;
The beastes are parcell of His pompe,
The wodden dishe, His plate.
Robert Southwell, from New Prince, New Pomp
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