Here is an abridged version of another poem written by the 17th century poet, John Milton.
It was the winter wild,
While the Heaven-born Child
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
Nature in awe of him
Had doffed her gaudy trim,
With her great Master so to sympathize:
It was no season then for her
To wanton with the sun, her lust paramour.
But he, her fears to cease,
Sent down the meek-eyed Peace;
She crowned with olive green came softly sliding
Down through the turning sphere,
His ready harbinger,
With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing,
And waving wide her myrtle wand,
She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.
The stars, with deep amaze,
Stand fixed in steadfast gaze,
Bending one way their precious influence,
And will not take their flight,
For all the morning light,
Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;
But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.