M Wn 7" Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/christmaswithpoeOOvize Sltorfeninrt tn &tmb § Mtinn. OME ingenious critic will probably discover that many of the verses in the present collection are unworthy to take rank as " poems," and will accordingly call the Editor to account for having in his selections departed from the strict letter of the title of his work. Following numerous illustrious examples, the Editor ventures to anticipate criticism — to the extent of pointing out the above inconsistency ; excusing himself, however, at the same time, by stating that every Song, Carol, or Descriptive piece in the pre- sent collection, which does not merit the higher appellation of Poem, will be found to illustrate in some degree an interesting by-gone custom, or to describe some feature worth preserving, connected with the Christmas celebrations of past or present times. And he feels that, could he justify all his other shortcomings as readily as he can the one in question, it would be conceded that he has performed his task in a far more perfect manner than he can now venture to lay claim to. The Editor would here desire to state, that it cannot but be gratifying to him to find that, in spite of the disadvantages under which the first edition of the present work made its appearance, a second impression has been called for. He believes that this can boast of various improvements ; the most important of which are several new designs from the pencil of his talented friend, Mr. Birket Foster. H. V. DIVISION I. CHRISTMAS CAROLS FROM THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD TO THE TIME OF THE REFORMATION. I'AGK Anglo-Norman Carol 3 Sir Christmas 6 Welcome Yule . . . 7 Hrligimis fcnls:— The Three Kings 8 In Excelsis Gloria .........11 The Virgin and Child . . 12 SB liar's Isait Carols:— I. — Tidings I bring you for to tell . . . . 16 II. — The Boar's Head, that we bring here . . . . 17 III — At the Beginning of the Meat 18 IV. — The Boar's Head in hand I bring I<) V. — The Boar's Head in hand bring I . . . . . 20 A Carol of Hunting 21 Carols in praise nf tic :— I. — A Bone, God wot ! 23 II. — Bring us in good Ale ....... 24 Ale makes many a Man to stick at a Brier . . . . 26 Carnls iit praise nf ii/r inlhj ann iljc 3ai{ :— I. — Holly and Ivy made a great Party . . . . 28 II.— Nay, Ivy, nay, it shall not be, I wis .... 29 III. — Here comes Holly, that is so gent . . . . 30 IV. — Ivy, Chief of Trees, it is 30 luprrotiiinits rrgariiing CJrristntas laij : - I. — LORDINGS, ALL OF YOU I WARN . . . . . . 31 II. — If Christmas Day on the Sunday be . ;>."> CONTENTS. DIVISION II CHRISTMAS POEMS OF THE ELIZABETHAN ERA. PAGE A Description of Housekeeping . . . {Thomas Tusser.) 40 A Description of Apt Time to Spend . . {Thomas Tusser.) 41 Christmas Husbandly Fare .... {Thomas Tusser.) 42 MigiHKS ^nras : — A Carol on the Birth of Christ New Prince, New Pomp A Hymn on the Nativity of My Savioui Hymn for Christmas Day . The Angels' Song The Shepherds' Song Christmas The Shepherd's Song . Winter .... Winter . Christmas Tide . Winter .... Winter .... Boar's Head Carol . The Old and Young Courtier Mumming .... A Carol for a Wassail Bowl Holly Song ( Thomas Tusser. ) { Robert So uthwell. ) {Ben Jonson.) {Bishop Hall.) { William Drummond ) ( William Drummond,) {George Herbert.) {Edmund Bolton.) {Thomas Sackvilie.) { W. Shakspeare.) { W. Shakspeare. ) ( Edmund Spenser.) {Ben Jonso)i.) {W. Shakspeare.) 43 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 53 54 56 56 57 59 60 65 67 69 DIVISION III. POEMS BY HERRICK RELATING TO THE CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL. Ceremony for Christmas Eve Christmas Eve . The Bell-man An Ode on the Birth of our Saviour A Christmas Carol True Hospitality The Wassail A Hymn to the Lares The Wassail Bowl A New Year's Gift . A Spell The Star Song . vi / CONTENTS. PAGE Twelfth Night, or King and Queen . . . . . . 87 St. Distaff's Day, or the Morrow after Twelfth Day . . 88 Ceremony for Candlemas Eve 89 Candlemas Eve ........... 90 Ceremony for Candlemas Day ........ 90 Candlemas Day .... 90 DIVISION IV. CHRISTMAS SONGS AND CAROLS OF THE TIME OF THE CIVIL WARS, THE COMMONWEALTH, AND THE RESTORATION. Merry Christmas {George Wither.) 93 Christmas Day {George Wither.) 98 Hymn to the Nativity {John Milton.) 99 Hymn of the Nativity, sung by the Shepherds {Richard Crashaw.) 107 Of Christ's Birth in an Inn .... {Jeremy Taylor.) 110 Carol .... ........Ill Christmas Song . . . . . . . . . . .112 Carol 113 The Old Cap, or Time's Alteration . . . . . 115 Old Christmas Returned 118 Wassailing Fruit Trees v 122 God Rest You, Merry Gentlemen 123 Carol with Lullaby 125 I Saw Three Ships 126 DIVISION V. CHRISTMAS VERSES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. The Approach of Christmas {John Gay.) 129 On Christmas ....... {John BamjjfylJe.) 130 Christmas Eve {R. J. Thorn.) 131 The Christmas Carol {R. J. Thorn.) 131 Christmas Sports {R. J. Thorn.) 132 Evergreen-Decking at Christmas .... {R. J. Thorn.) 133 The Christmas Box . . . . . . . {R. J. Thorn.) 133 The Christmas Feast {R. J. Thorn.) 134 The Good Old Times 131 A Hint to the Fanatics . . . . . . . . .135 Summer Toil, and Winter Cheer 130 Labour's Reward 137 Christmas Past and Present 138 vii CONTENTS. Wassailer's Song Christmas is a-Comino Winter PAGE . 139 140 {William Cowper.) 142 DIVISION VI. CHRISTMAS VERSES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. Christmas in the Olden Time Wassail .... Christmas Minstrelsy A Christmas Carol Christmas Carol . Christmas Day Christmas Hymn . The Nativity . Christmas Morning Christmas Time . Christmas comes but once a Year Christmas Tide . The Mahogany Tree . Christmas is Come Old Christmas . Wmin:— a wrinkled crabbed man they picture Dear Boy, throw that Icicle down . There's not a Flower upon the Hill This is now the Winter Time Church- Decking at Christmas The Holly* Tree Under the Holly Bough The Holly Berry The Christmas Holly The Mistletoe The Mistletoe Church Bells Dirge eor the Year . The Death of the Old Year New Year's Day "Ring out, wild Bells" (Sir Walter Scott.) 144 147 {William Wordsworth.) 148 {Samuel T. Coleridge.) 151 {Felicia Hemans.) 153 ( Samuel Richards. ) 154 {Alfred Dommett.) 156 . {W.J. Blew.) 158 ( Edward Moxon. ) 159 {John Clare.) 161 {Thomas Miller.) 166 {Eliza Cook.) 171 (W. M. Thackeray.) 173 . {Albert Smith.) 174 {John Bridgeman.) 175 thee {Robert Southcy.) 178 {Robert Bloomfeld.) 178 . (Mary Howitt.) 179 {Goodwyn Barmby.) 182 William Wordsworth.) 184 {Robert Southey.) 185 {Charles Mac/cay.) 186 {Thomas Miller.) 187 (Eliza Cook.) 189 . 190 {Barry Cornwall.) 192 {John Treble.) 193 . {P. B. Shelley.) 195 {Alfred Tennyson.) 196 {Hartley Coleridge.) 198 {Alfred Tennyson,) 201 \ iii list nf Stotrnttmts. DESIGNED AND DRAWN ON WOOD BY BIRKET FOSTER, and engraved by henry vizetelly. The Nativity } A Christmas Festival in the Olden Time f DIVISION I. Christmas Preparations : Courtyard of Anglo-Norman Castle Group of Minstrels Virgin and Child Boar Hunt Bringing in the Boar's Head The Second Course : Dance of Fools Hunting Scene Drinking Group Harvest Home in the Olden Time DIVISION II. Believing the Poor Husbandman's Christmas Dinner Carol Singers Angels Singing Adoration of the Shepherds Owl and To-vver Milkmaids Beturning Home Interior of Country Church The Wassail Bowl Hawking Party The Old Courtier The Young Courtier Mumming Scene Gnus with Wassail Boayl Forester avith Holly Bough LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. DIVISION III. PAGK Bringing in the Christmas Log 72 Carol Singers repore Charles I. at Whitehall . ... 75 Old English Manor House : The Wassail 80 Fothering Horses 88 DIVISION IV. Cavaliers Drinking .......... 93 Making Presents to the Justice 95 The Angels Appearing to the Shepherds 102 Christmas Hospitality 114 Wassailing Fruit Trees 122 Garden Terrace: Carol Singers 123 DIVISION V. Charity 129 Hunt the Slipper 132 Christmas Wassailing 139 Country Dance . . . . . . . . . . .141 DIVISION VI. Ball- Room in Old English Mansion 145 Gathering Mistletoe 146 Rydal Mount, Westmoreland : Christmas Minstrels . . . 148 Christmas Morning: Going to Church 159 Milkmaid and Shepherd . . 162 The Abeey Gate 167 Under the Mistletoe 170 Rich and Poor 176 Old Winter . 178 Group op Deer 180 Country Church decked with Holly 184 Ringing Church-Bells 193 Snow Scene : The Death of the Year 196 " Ph^bus waxed old, and hued like laton ; That in his hot declination Shone as the burned gold, with streams bright, But now in Capricorn adown doth light Wherein he shone full pale, I dare well sain. The bitter frosts with sleet and rain Destroyed have the green in every yard. Janus sits by the fire with double beard, And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine ! Before him. stands brawn of the tusked swine, And Nowel* crieth every lusty man." THE FRANKLIN'S TALE. DIVISION I. CHRISTMAS CAROLS, FROM THE ANGLO-NORMAN PERIOD TO THE TIME OF THE REFORMATION. IVE hundred years ago, Chaucer, who, in his racy verse, has preserved the exactest descriptions of the manners of the age in which he lived, incidentally sketched the above slight picture of the Christmas sea- son. Unfortunately, it furnishes us with but few points to dwell upon. The wintry sun no longer shining like burnished gold, and throwing out broad rays of light, but of a dull brazen hue ; the bitter frosts, that with sleet and rain have destroyed the last vestiges of the garden's green ; these, re- lieved by an incident allegorical of the jovial feasting, which never failed to usher in the festival of the Saviour's nativity, comprise, not only the whole of this little sketch, but all that the father of English te&VlM^V^&WAUt < Ut poetry— the " Morning Star of Song,"— has left us connected with our subject. It is not, therefore, by extracts from his works that we shall be enabled to illustrate the customs and festivities of the Christinas season among our forefathers at this early period of our history. The materials for this purpose will have to be culled from more fugitive sources, and will be mainly comprised of poems which were chanted forth by the minstrels of old, at a time when a scanty measure of devotion furnished the excuse for the most extravagant revelry. Among the primitive Christians, the festival of the Saviour's nativity was doubtless ushered in by the display of a calm, religious feeling, unmingled with the consideration of mere wordly enjoyments; but in course of time, when this important feast of the Christian Church had * The French word Noel, signifying Christmas. 1 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. come to be incorporated with those heathen rites of the northern nations, which were celebrated towards the end of the year, it degenerated, for the most part, into a mere display of boisterous festivity. Such we find it to have been during the Anglo-Saxon period, and such it continued under the line of Norman kings ; though one good feature connected with the celebration of the Christmas festival by these latter monarchs, was the practice that prevailed with them, of assembling upon the occa- sion, the chief prelates and nobles of the kingdom, when the general affairs of the country were taken into consideration. As a relief, how- ever, to these grave deliberations, the guests were feasted with a series of grand banquets; and one of the metrical romances of the period has the following allusion to the circumstance : — " Christmas is a time full honest ; King Richard it honoured with great feast, All his clerks and barons Were set in their pavilions, And served with great plenty Of meat, and drink, and each dainty." * True enough, the company were served with " meat and drink in great plenty ;" for we find it recorded, that at several of the entertainments of the period, as many as thirty thousand dishes were set before the famished guests. Some of the " dainties" would perhaps be regarded as questionable by modern tastes ; they may be judged of, however, by an enumeration of the favourite dishes of the period, which will be found contained in one of the Boar's Head Carrols, a few pages further on. Days thus spent in feasting and deliberation gave place to nights of revelry, at which masques and mummings, varied with games of chance, and the tricks of jugglers and mountebanks, formed the chief features of the evening's entertainment. A continual round of pleasure was thus kept up throughout the whole of the twelve days forming the feast of Yule ; and it was rarely until the expiration of the closing night's debauch that a time was found for the return to a more sober course of proceeding. The earliest existing Carol known to antiquaries, is in the Anglo- Norman language. It was discovered written on a blank leaf in the middle of one of the manuscripts f preserved in the British Museum. The date assigned to it is the thirteenth century. As but few of our readers would readily comprehend a reprint of the poem in its ancient form, we have preferred to insert a new translation of it, wherein the style and language of the original have been very closely adhered to. We may suppose this Carol to have been one of those in use among the bands of professional minstrels — half vagrants, half troubadours, who wandered from one to the other of the different castles of the Norman nobility, " discoursing sweet sounds" for the gratification of the assembled guests, and who were certain of a ready welcome on so jovial an occasion, as the celebration of the Christmas feast. * Richard Cceuv de Lion, in Weber's Metrical Romances, t Bibl. Reg. 16, E. VIII. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. 'Tis to day! May joy come from God above, To all those who Christmas love ! Lordings, I now tell you true, Christmas bringeth unto you Only mirth ; His house he fills with many a dish Of bread and meat and also fish, To grace the day. May joy come from God above, To all those who Christmas love. Lordings, through our army's band They say — who spends with open hand Free and fast, And oft regales his many friends — God gives him double what he spends, To grace the day. May joy come from God above, To all those who Christmas love. Lordings, wicked men eschew, In them never shall you view Aught that 's good ; Cowards are the rabble rout, Kick and beat the grumblers out, To grace the day. May joys come from God above, To all those who Christmas love. To English ale, and Gascon wine, And French, doth Christmas much incline And Anjou's, too ; ANGLO-NORMAN CAROL. He makes his neighbour freely drink, So that in sleep his head doth sink Often by day. May joys now from God above, To all those who Christmas love. Lords, by Christmas and the host Of this mansion hear my toast — Drink it well — Each must drain his cup of wine, And I the first will toss oft' mine : Thus I advise, Here then I bid you all Wassail, Cursed be who will not say, Drinkhail . * The following very early Carols, with their mixture of Scriptural allusions and invitations to hard drinking, are such as were doubtless sung by the tribe of professional minstrels during the several periods of feasting into which the day of Yule was divided. A peculiar instance, showing that, even in a subsequent age, music and singing were held in greater account than devotion, and that eating and drinking were rated far above all, is found in the accounts of the Stationers' Company for the year 1510, which contain the following entry :— s. IV. Ivy, chief of trees, it is Veni coronaberis. R V\ r M The most worthy is she in town ; He who says other, says amiss ; Worthy is she to hear the crown ; Veni coronaberis . Ivy is soft, and meek of speech, Against all woe she bringeth bliss ; Happy is he that may her reach ; Veni coronaberis. Gallant, courteous. t A large fruit basket. SUPERSTITIONS REGARDING CHRISTMAS DAY. Of all trees the chief she is ; And that I prove will now be right ; Vent coronaheris. Ivy, she beareth berries black ; God grant to all of us his bliss ! For then we shall nothing lack ; Veni coronaheris. The following poems are, perhaps, more curious than interesting. They afford, however, some idea of the superstitious dread with which the advent of Christmas Day must have been regarded in these early times, not merely by the vulgar, but by all classes of our forefathers, for the Francis Moores and liaphaels of the fifteenth century, found even kings willing believers in their extravagant predictions. From the allusion in each verse of the first poem to the risks that those who steal subject themselves to, one would almost suppose thieving to have been the fashionable vice of the age, practised alike by both rich and poor, and that there was great need of such injunctions against it, Both of these poems are from the same Harleian MS. in the British Museum.* Ivy is green, of colour bright, ihtpratittimfl regarding (Cjjristmns Dmj. i. ORDINGS, all of you I warn, If the day that Christ was born Fall upon a Sunday, The winter shall be good I say, But great winds aloft shall be ; The summer shall be fair and dry. * No. 2252, fols. 153-4, vo. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. By kind skill and without loss, Through all lands there shall be peace, Good time for all things to be done, But he that stealeth shall be found soon ; What child that day born may be, A great lord he shall live to be. If Christmas day on Monday be, A great winter that year you '11 see, And full of winds, both loud and shrill ; But in the summer, truth to tell, Stern winds shall there be and strong, Full of tempests lasting long ; While battles they shall multiply ; And great plenty of beasts shall die. They that be born that day I ween ; They shall be strong each one and keen ; He shall be found that stealeth ought ; Though thou be sick thou diest not. If Christmas day on Tuesday be, That year shall many women die, And that winter grow great marvels ; Ships shall be in great perils ; That year shall kings and lords be slain, And many other people near them. A dry summer that year shall be, As all that are born therein may see ; They shall be strong and covetous. If thou steal aught, thou losest thy life, For thou shalt die through sword or knife But if thou fall sick 't is certain, Thou shalt turn to life again. SUPERSTITIONS REGARDING CHRISTMAS BAY. If Christmas day, the truth to say, Fall upon a Wednesday, There shall he a hard winter and stronj With many hideous winds among. The summer merry and good shall And that year wheat in great plent Young folk shall die that year also. And ships at sea shall have great woe. j Whatever child that day born is, He shall be doughty and gay, I wis. .'5:5 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. And wise and crafty also of deed, And find many in clothes and bread. If Christmas day on Thursday be, A windy winter you shall see ; Windy weather in each week, And hard tempests strong and thick. The summer shall be good and dry, Corn and beasts shall multiply ; That year is good lands for to till ; Kings and princes shall die by skill. If a child that day born should be, It shall happen right well for thee — Of deeds he shall be good and stable, Wise of speech and reasonable. Whoso that day goes thieving about, He shall be punished without doubt ; And if sickness that day betide, It shall quickly from thee glide. If Christmas day on a Friday be, The first of winter hard shall be, With frost and snow and with great flood, But the end thereof it shall be good. Again, the summer shall be good also ; Folk in their eyes shall have great woe : Women with child, beasts, and corn Shall multiply, and be lost none. The child that is born on that day, Shall live long, and lecherous be alway. Who stealeth ought shall be found out ; If thou be sick it lasteth not. SUPERSTITIONS REGARDING CHRISTMAS DAY. If Christmas day on Saturday fall, That winter 's to be dreaded by all ; It shall be so full of great tempest, That it shall slay both man and beast ; Great store shall fail of fruit and corn, And old folk die many a one. What woman that day of child doth travail, She shall give birth in great peril ; And children born that day, by faith, In half a year shall meet with death. The summer shall be wet and ill ; Thou shalt suffer if thou aught steal ; Thou diest if sickness do thee take. IT. (<2& F Christmas day on the Sunday be, A troublous winter ye shall see, Mingled with waters strong ; Good there shall be without fable, For the summer shall be reasonable, With storms at times amon " Get Ivy and Holly and deck up thine house, And take this same brawn to seethe and to souse. Provide us good cheer, for thou know'st the old guise : Old customs, that good be, let no man despise. At Christmas be merry and thankful withal, And feast thy poor neighbours, the great with the small, Yea, all the year long, to the poor let us give : God's blessing to follow us, while we do live." TUSSER. DIVISION II. CHRISTMAS POEMS OF THE ELIZABETHAN ERA. ^^v^te^^^^^^^r^^^/ E now enter upon that era which was a period ra^^^^^^^^^^^^^^R of transition, not merely as regards our na- n^^^^^^S^^^^^^L tional religion, but likewise as regards our ffc^^^w^^Av ^ na ^ ona ^ literature. The Reformation, and the M^^^^^^^^ \ introduction of printing had begun to produce lv£ V Cl^" 1 their fruity and, amongst other changes that <; ^^^^^^SslV^ Efc'C ( were taking place, somewhat of the bar- /^^^^*^^JSt3Ey^^^S barism °f our national manners, was in pro- ^"^P^^^^^^T^^I l^rc^v^ cess °^ eradication. And it w T as fitting that ?<^iy^£ such should be the case under the auspices of V^^^^rl^v ^^y^ll a female sovereign, who, although she pos- §£^o^^8k / A -%1^S brought her influence to bear in refin- ^Wrw" /^^rtlfcvi ni » manners °f bcr courtiers ; and, with ^i^v ^ s <^^' ^^^^\^[ own van i^' conver ted them into so many ^y^W^vi 1 ? iVt v^i l )eaux Chevaliers, who did homage to her per- jr>^? ^^3^ }r son, more perhaps because she w r as a woman, than by reason of her position as a queen. Among the many changes that were effected, none were, perhaps, more apparent than in the festive entertainments of the time. Some idea of the ceremony observed on these occasions may be formed from the follow- ing code of instructions, for the guidance of a nobleman's household: — ''On Christmas day, service in the church ended, the gentlemen presently repair into the hall to breakfast, with brawn, mustard, and malmsey. " At dinner, the butler, appointed for the Christmas, is to see the tables covered and furnished ; and the ordinary butlers of the house are decently to set bread, napkins, and trenchers, in good form, at every table ; with spoons and knives, At the first course is served in a fuir and large boar's head, upon a silver platter, with minstrelsy. "Two 'servants' are to attend at supper, and to bear two fair torches of 37 k CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. wax, next before the musicians and trumpeters, and stand above the fire with the music, till the first course be served in through the hall. Which performed, they, with the music, are to return into the buttery. The like course is to be observed in all things, during the time of Christmas. " At night, before supper, are revels and dancing, and so also after supper, during the twelve days of Christmas. The Master of the Revels is, after din- ner or supper, to sing a carol, or song; and command other gentlemen then there present to sing with him and the company ; and see it is very decently performed." A recent writer, deriving his information from contemporary sources, furnishes us with some additional particulars in reference to the style of entertainment in vogue among the higher orders during the Eliza- bethan period. " The nobility," he says, " had discarded entirely their huge joints of salted beef, and platters of wood and pewter, together with the swarms of jesters, tumblers, and harpers, that formerly had been in- dispensable to the banquet-room ; a stately ceremonial and solemn silence were considered to be the indications of true politeness. The table was daily set out with a great variety of dishes, consisting of beef, mutton, veal, lamb, pork, kid, coney, capon, pig* or so many of these as the season afforded, with store of red or fallow deer, and varieties of fish and fowl. The wine and other liqueurs were not placed upon the table with the dishes, but on a sideboard, and each person called, as occasion required, for a flagon of the wine he preferred ; by which, as Harrison informs us, much idle tippling was avoided. When the company had finished eat- ing, the remaining provisions were sent to the waiters and servants ; and when these had sufficiently dined, the fragments were distributed among the poor, who waited without the gate." None suffered so much from these innovations as the once highly- rewarded minstrel ; he, who had been in past times the soul of the tournament, and a welcome guest at every banquet, was now " a street ballad-singer, or ale-house fiddler, chanting forth from benches and barrel heads to an audience consisting of a few gaping rustics from the country, or a parcel of idle boys ; and, as if the degradation of these despised and unhoused favourites of former days had not been enough, the stern justice of the law made them doubly vile, obliging them to skulk into corners, and perform their merry offices in fear and trembling. Minstrels were now classed in the statute with rogues and vagabonds, and made liable to the same pains and penalties." One distinguishing feature of the Christmas festivities of this era was the custom, which, originating in the reign of Henry VII., was now at its height, of appointing a Lord of Misrule or Master of Merry Disports, who exercised a twelve days' sway, perpetrating within that brief while a sufficient number of solemn tomfooleries to be repented of during the course of a long life. Not only was one of these Christmas princes appointed for the special entertainment of the sovereign and her court, but every corporation selected a similar officer to preside over the festivities of the season; and, according to old Stow, there was the like " in the house of every nobleman of honour or good worship, were he spiritual or temporal." Stow moreover informs us, that during the 38 THE ELIZABETHAN ERA. period of the sway of the Lord of Misrule, " there were fine and subtle disguisings, masks, and mummeries, with playing- at cards for counters, nails, and points, in every house, more for pastime than for gain." In these days town and country would seem to have vied with each other as to which should exhibit the greatest extravagance in the prepara- tion of the Christmas entertainment, for we find Massinger exclaiming- " Men may talk of country Christmasses — Their thirty-pound buttered eggs, their pies of carps' tongues, Their pheasants drenched with ambergris, the carcasses Of three fat Wethers bruised for gravj T , to Make sauce for a single peacock ; yet their feasts Were fasts, compared with the city's." Although a more decorous and even refined style of entertainment had usurped the place of the boisterous fcastings of former times, there was no diminution in that ancient spirit of hospitality, the exercise of which had become a part of the national faith. And, in the " good old times " of the virgin queen, all classes were in a condition to put so excellent a theory into frequent practice. The labouring population of the Elizabe- than era lived, it is true, in mere hovels, like the peasantry of our own day, but their fare was of a very different character. The remark of the Span- ish ambassador who visited England about this period, will be recollected. " These English," said he, "have their houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare, commonly, as well as the king." Early in the reign of Elizabeth, the substantial yeoman was housed no better than his own ploughman ; and even the state rooms of royalty were then strewn daily with clean rushes, just as we now provide our stables with fresh litter. Subsequently, however, the thatched timber buildings, with their rerc- dosses, or open fire-places, gave place to those picturesque red brick farm houses, and their clusters of tall chimneys, which are still to be seen scattered through almost every sequestered valley in the land. A writer of the period,* in alluding to the changes that had taken place within his own recollection, particularly calls attention to the " multitude of chimneys recently erected ; whereas, in his young days, there were not above two or three, if so many, in most uplandish towns of the realm (the religious houses, and manor places of the lords always excepted)." The buildings themselves give ample evidence that the new fashion of chimneys was in high favour ; and that these same chimneys were put to good use ; and that hospitality formed part and parcel of the festivities of the Christmas season among the English yeomen of that time, may be gathered from the following poems by Tusser, which have been extracted from his " Five Hundred Points of good Husbandry." Thomas Tusser, a gcorgical poet of great popularity in his own and the succeeding age, was born about lolo, and elied in 1580. He was chorister and agriculturist by turns. His great merit consists in his poems being faithful pictures of the manners, customs, and domestic life of the English farmer of that day ; and in the morality, piety, and benevolent simplicity which pervade all that he has written. ' Harrison. 39 A DESCRIPTION OF HOUSEKEEPING. THOMAS TITSSER. What then of this talent, while here we remain, But study to yield it to God with a gain ; And that shall we do, if by us 'tis not hid, But we use and bestow it, as Christ doth us bid. to What good to get riches by breaking of sleep, But (having the same) a good house to keep ; Not only to bring a good fame to thy door; But also the prayer to win of the poor. 4 —ML. P? i a A DESCRIPTION OF APT TIME TO SPEND. Of all other doings, house-keeping is chief, For daily it helpeth the poor with relief ; The neighbour, the stranger, and all that have need, Which causeth thy doings the better to speed. Though, hearken to this, we should ever among, Yet chiefly at Christmas of all the year long. Good cause of that use, may appear by the name, Though niggardly niggards do kick at the same. A DESCRIPTION OF APT TIME TO SPEND. THOMAS TUSSER. Let such (so fantastical) liking not this, Nor anything honest that ancient is, Give place to the time, that so meet we do see, Appointed of God, as it seemeth to be. At Christmas good husbands have corn in the ground, In barn, and in cellar, worth many a pound. Things plenty in house (beside cattle and sheep), All sent them (no doubt on) good houses to keep. At Christmas the hardness of winter doth rage, A griper of all things, especially age ; Then lightly poor people, the young with the old, Be sorest oppressed with hunger and cold. At Christmas, by labour is little to get ; That wanting, the poorest in danger are set. What season then better of all the whole year, m, , -114- f 111 iny needy poor neighbour to comtort and cneer ! 41 _7 ^ CHRISTMAS HUSBANDLY FARE. THOMAS TUSSER. Good husband and housewife, now chiefly be glad Things handsome to have, as they ought to be had, They both do provide against Christmas do come, To welcome their neighbour, good cheer to have some ; Good bread and good drink, a good fire in the hall, Brawn pudding and souse, and good mustard withal ; Beef, mutton, and pork, shred pies of the best, Pig, veal, goose, and capon, and turkey well dressed ; Cheese, apples, and nuts, jolly carols to hear, As then in the country is counted good cheer. What cost to good husband is any of this, Good household provision only it is ; Of other the like I do leave out a many, That costeth the husbandman never a penny. 4.2 if A CAROL ON THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. THOMAS TUSSEK. mi AS not Christ our Saviour Sent unto us from God above, Not for our good behaviour, But only of His mercy and love ? If this be true, as true it is, Truly indeed ; Great thanks to God to yield for this Then had we need. his did our God for very troth, To train to Him the soul of man, And justly to perform His oath : To Sarah and to Abraham, than That through his seed, all nations should Most blessed be, As in due time performed, He would All flesh should see. n 13 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Which wondrously is brought to pass. And in our sight already done, By sending, as His promise was (To comfort us), His only Son, Even Christ, I mean, that virgin's Child In Bethlehem born : That Lamb of God, that Prophet mild, With crowned thorn. Such was His love to save us all, From dangers of the curse of God, That we stood in by Adam's fall, And by our own deserved rod. • That through His blood and holy name, All that believe, And fly from sin, and abhor the same, Shall grace receive. For this glad news, this feast doth bring, To God, the Son, and Holy Ghost, Let man give thanks, rejoice and sing, From world to world, from coast to coast, For other gifts in many ways, That God doth send : Let us in Christ give God the praise, Till life shall end. Robert Southwell, the writer of the following poem, is chiefly remem- bered on account of his unfortunate fate. He was educated and trained for the Catholic priesthood, and when but a mere youth, became a mem- ber of the Society of Jesus, at Rome. In 1584, at the age of twenty-four, he was sent as a missionary to England. This was at a time when religious persecution was at its height, and Elizabeth seemed bent on rivalling her sister Mary's cruel decrees. Southwell, however, enjoyed an eight years' security, but at the expiration of that time he was arrested, and under- went a long imprisonment, suffered the torture of the rack ten times, and was at length executed at Tyburn, on February 21, 1595. 44 NEW PRINCE, NEW VOMV ROBERT SOUTHWELL. Behold a silly* tender Babe, In freezing winter night, In homely manger trembling lies ; Alas! a piteous sight. The inns are full, no man will yield This little Pilgrim bed ; But forced He is with silly beasts, In crib to shrowd His head. Despise Him not for lying there, First what He is inquire : An orient pearl is often found In depth of dirty mire. Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish, Nor beasts that by Him feed ; Weigh not His mother's poor attire, Nor Joseph's simple weed. This stable is a Prince's court, The crib His chair of State; The beasts are parcel of His pomp, The wooden dish His plate ; The persons in that poor attire, His royal liveries wear ; The Prince himself is come from Heaven This pomp is prized there. With joy approach, O Christian wight, Do homage to thy King ; And highly praise His humble pomp, Which He from Heaven doth bring. * Simple. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. A HYMN ON THE NATIVITY OF MY SAVIOUR. BEN JONSON. I sing the birth was born to-night, The author both of life and light ; The angels so did sound it, And like the ravished shepherds said, Who saw the light, and were afraid, Yet searched, and true they found it. The Son of God, th' Eternal King, That did us all salvation bring, And freed the soul from danger ; He whom the whole world could not take, The Word, which heaven and earth did make, Was now laid in a manger. The Father's wisdom willed it so, The Son's obedience knew no No, Both wills were in one stature ; And as that wisdom had decreed, The Word was now made Flesh indeed, And took on him our nature. What comfort by Him do we win, Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of Glory ! To see this babe, all innocence, A martyr born in our defence : Can man forget this story ? N /""~ i FOR CHRISTMAS DAY. The following- Christmas Hymn is by Bishop Hall, one of the earliest of our satiric poets, and one of the most celebrated of our old divines. He was contemporary with Shakspeare, Jonson, Spenser, and the other lights of the Elizabethan age. He, however, survived them all, and passing through the troublous times of the Commonwealth, exposed to the persecutions of the Roundhead party, died at Higham, near Norwich, in 1656. FOR CHRISTMAS DAY. /^^^4^Mr BISH0P HALL ' MMORTAL Babe, who this dear day %m ^ ^^ St c ^ an » e ^hine neaven f° r our day? ||R And didst with flesh Thy godhead veil, ^JSl Eternal Son of God, all hail ! Shine, happy star, ye angels, sing 11 ^ or y on high to Heaven's King. V ^^y|S ) Kun, shepherds, leave your nightly watch, ^^Y^Mj ^ ee -^- eaven come down to Bethlehem's cratch. ^jMBp; Worship, ye sages of the east, /j^^f The King of God in meanness dressed. 1 ^ blessed maid, smile and adore The God thy womb and arms have bore. ^£#Yf\ Star, angels, shepherds, and wild sages, J\ Thou virgin glory of all ages, ' »v v i>i Restored frame of Heaven and Earth. ( * n y our ^ ear Redeemer's birth ! William Drummond, of Hawthornden, the author of the two follow- ing sonnets, will be remembered as the friend of Ben Jonson, who undertook a journey to Scotland on foot, for the purpose of seeing, and conversing with, one who was only known to him through the medium of correspondence. This meeting, however, did not tend to enhance fnon* TYintnol ro(?orrl • nrtn TlT*n TYl m Ann InTr TAnViinri "him o"f Kit: nA'li"n n LI1U11 HlULLLcll ICiiclIU., tlllU. XJL U.II1IHUI1U. lVlb UUIUUU. IHII1 clL lllo ULd 111 FOR A WASSAIL BOWL. JOLLY Wassail Bowl, A Wassail of good ale, Well fare the butler's soul, That setteth this to sale— Our jolly Wassail. Good dame, here at your door Our Wassail we begin, We are all maidens poor, We now pray let us in, With our Wassail. CHKISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Our Wassail we do fill With apples and with spice, Then grant us your good will, To taste here once or twice Of our Wassail. If any maidens be Here dwelling in this house, They kindly will agree To take a full carouse Of our Wassail. But here they let us stand All freezing in the cold ; Good master, give command To enter and be bold, With our Wassail. Much joy into this hall With us is entered in, Our master first of all, We hope will now begin, Of our Wassail. And after, his good wife Our spiced bowl will try, — The Lord prolong your life ! Good fortune we espy, For our Wassail. Some bounty from your hands, Our Wassail to maintain : We J ll buy no house nor lands With that which we do gain, With our Wassail. HOLLY SONG. This is our merry night Of choosing King and Queen, Then be it your delight That something may be seen In our Wassail. It is a noble part To bear a liberal mind ; God bless our master's heart ! For here we comfort find, With our Wassail. And now we must be gone, To seek out more good cheer ; Where bounty will be shown, As we have found it here. With our Wassail, Much joy betide them all, Our prayers shall be still, We hope, and ever shall, For this your great good will To our Wassail. HOLLY SONG. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly ; Then, heigh, ho ! the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou hitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not. Heigh, ho ! sing heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : Then, heigh, ho ! the holly ! This life is most jolly. DIVISION III. mm POEMS BY HERRICK, RELATING TO THE CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL. MONG all our English poets, the one, who has left us by far the most complete con- temporary picture of the Christmas season, was a country clergyman of the reign of § f° r show /if ^f^&^imS ^ ne no ^y hitherto did sway ; l*Jfe^l^^ r ® Eet ^ ox now domineer, ^^^^^^dj^^^fe^ Until the dancing Easter-day ^ r Eas ^ er ' s eye a PP ear - "^^^fc jfLI T nen youthful box, which now hath grace 4Ilffe'lfN^ Your houses to renew, %fSlk J r^ B *"' Grown old, surrender must his place W p 1 ^ When yew is out, then birch comes in, |1 * And many flowers beside, a. F Both of a fresh and fragrant kin, A /H nonour Whitsuntide. 1 1 V Green rushes then, and sweetest bents, \^ With cooler oaken boughs, I 1\ Come in for comely ornaments, JW || 1 To re-adorn the house. / §® Thus times do shift; each thing his turn does hold ; New things succeed as former things grow old. • Tliis is the first reference to the mistletoe, in its quality of a Christmas evergreen, that we have met with in the writings of our early poets. 89 ii CANDLEMAS EVE : ANOTHER CEREMONY. Down with the rosemary , and so Down with the bays and mistletoe ; Down with the holly, ivy, all Wherewith ye dressed the Christmas hall ; That so the superstitious find No one least branch there left behind ; For look, now many leaves there be Neglected there, maids, trust to me, So many goblins you shall see. CEREMONY FOR CANDLEMAS DAY. Kindle the Christmas brand, and then Till sunset let it burn ; Which quenched, then lay it up again, Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept, wherewith to tend The Christmas log next year ; And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend Can do no mischief there. In Herrick's time, it was customary with the country people to pro- Long the merriment of the Christmas season until Candlemas Day— a circumstance referred to in the following couplet : — CANDLEMAS DAY. End now the white-loaf and the pie, And let all sports with Christmas die. 90 " All plums the prophet's sons defy, And spice broths are too hot ; Treason 's in a December pic, And death within the pot. Christmas, farewell ! thy days, I fear, Thy merry days, are done ; So they may keep feasts all the year, Our Saviour shall have none." NEDHAM, DIVISION IV. CHRISTMAS SONGS AND CAROLS OF THE TIME OF THE CIVIL WARS, THE COMMONWEALTH, AND THE RESTORATION. HE lively Christmas verses by Wither — written before his Puritanical zeal had de- veloped itself — that open the present sec- tion of our work, introduce us to an amusing- picture of the rejoicings of the season, ere the civil troubles of the reign of Charles 1 . had interfered, to throw a damper on the national hilarity. The holly and the ivy had not yet come to be regarded as em- blems of paganism. The Christmas log still blazed on the hospitable hearth, and music and dancing were far from being consi- dered irrelevant and indecent amusements. The wassail bowl, too, was still in fashion, and even mumming was indulged in by both young men and maidens — " With twenty other gambols mo, Because they would he merry." In the course of a few short years we find that penalties were en- forced against parish officers for permitting the decking of churches, and even for alloiving Divine service to be performed therein on Christmas morning ; and, to quote the words of old John Taylor, the water poet, — " All the liberty and harmless sports, the merry gambols, dances, and friscols, with which the toiling ploughman and labourer once a year were wont to be recreated, and their spirits and hopes revived for a whole twelvemonth, arc now extinct and put cut of use, in such a fashion as if they never had been. Thus are the merry lords of bad rule at Westminster ; nay more, their madness hath extended itself to the very vegetables ; the senseless trees, herbs, and weeds, are in a profane estimation amongst them — holly, ivy, mistletoe, rosemary, bays, arc accounted ungodly branches of superstition for your entertainment. And to roast a sirloin of beef, to touch a collar of brawn, to take a pie, to put a plum in the pottage pot, to burn a great candle, or to lay one block the more in the fire for your sake, Master Christmas, is enough to 01 CHRISTMAS WITH THE "POETS. make a man to be suspected and taken for a Christian, for which he shall be apprehended for committing high Parliament Treason and mighty malignancy against the general Council of the Directorian private Pres- byterian Conventicle." * In another pamphlet, published a few years later, Taylor gives us a further insight into the doings of the Puritanical party. It would appear, however, that their efforts " to keep Christmas Day out of England," as he expresses it, were unattended with success, so far as the rural districts were concerned. He brings forward old Father Christmas, who informs us that certain "hot, zealous brethren were of opinion that, from the 24th of December at night, till the 7th of January following, plum pottage was mere Popery, that a collar of brawn was an abomination, that roast beef was anti-christian, that mince pies were relics of the woman of Babylon, and a goose, a turkey, or a capon, were marks of the beast." After a few words of remonstrance, Christmas proceeds to describe his visit to a " grave, fox-furred mammonist," by whom he is received with anything but cordiality ; and, taking his departure, he makes his way into the country, where he meets with the "best and freest welcome from some kind country farmers : I will describe one," he observes, " for all the rest in Devonshire and Cornwall, where the goodman, with the dame of the house, and every body else, were exceeding glad to see me, and, with all country courtesy and solemnity, I was had into the parlour; there I was placed at the upper end of the table, and my company about me, we had good cheer and free welcome, and we were merry without music. "After dinner we arose from the board and sat by the fire — where the hearth was embroidered all over with roasted apples, piping hot, expect- ing a bowl of ale for a cooler (which presently was transformed into warm lambswool). Within an hour after we went to church, where a good old minister spoke very reverendly of my Master, Christ, and also he uttered many good speeches concerning me, exciting and exhorting the people to love and unity one with another, and to extend their cha- rities to the needy and distressed. " After prayers we returned home, where we discoursed merrily, without either profaneness or obscenity ; supper being ended, we went to cards ; some sung carols and merry songs (suitable to the times) ; then the poor labouring hinds and the maid-servants, with the ploughboys, went nimbly to dancing, the poor toiling wretches being all glad of my company, because they had little or no sport at all till I came amongst them ; and therefore they leaped and skipped for joy, singing a catch to the tune of hey, " ' Let's dance and sing, and make good cheer, For Christmas comes but once a year.' Thus at active games and gambols of hotcockles, shoeing the wild mare, and the like harmless sports, some part of the tedious night was spent ; and early in the morning we took our leaves of them thankfully ; and though we had been thirteen days well entertained, yet the poor people * The Complaint of Christmas, -written after Twelftide, and printed before Candlemas, 1G4G. 92 MERRY CHRISTMAS. were very unwilling to let me go ; so I left them, quite out of hope to have my company again for a twelvemonths' space, that, if I were not banished in my absence, they should have my presence again next 25th of December, 1653." * MERRY CHRISTMAS. GEORGE WITHER. O, now is come our joyfuPst feast ; Let every man be jolly ; Each room with ivy leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine ; Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry. 9 Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, And Christmas blocks are burning; Their ovens they with baked meats choke, And all their spits are turning. * Christmas In and Out; or, Our Lord and Saviour Christ's Birthday, 1652. 93 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Without the door let sorrow lie ; And if for cold it hap to die. We '11 hury 't in a Christmas pie, And ever more be merry. Now every lad is wondrous trim, And no man minds his labour ; Our lasses have provided them A bag-pipe and a tabour ; Young men and maids, and girls and boys, Give life to one another's joys ; And you anon shall by their noise Perceive that they are merry. Rank misers now do sparing shun ; Their hall of music soundeth ; And dogs thence with whole shoulders run, So all things there aboundeth. The country folks themselves advance With crowdy-muttons * out of France; And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance, And all the town be merry. Ned Squash hath fetched his bands from pawn And all his best apparel ; Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn With droppings of the barrel ; And those that hardly all the year Had bread to eat, or rags to wear, Will have both clothes and dainty fare, And all the day be merry. * Fiddlers. MERRY CHRISTMAS. iff r Now poor men to the justices With capons make their errants;* And if they hap to fail of these, They plague them with their warrants But now they feed them with good cheer, And what they want they take in beer For Christmas comes but once a year, And then they shall be merry. This was an old custom on the part of tenants to their landlords, which came to be followed by all the poorer sort who made their annual offering at the great man's shrine at this particular season of the year. Gascoigne, who wrote in the reign of Elizabeth, says— " And when the tenants come to pay their quarter's rent, They bring some fowl at Midsummer, a dish of fish in Lent, At Christmas a capon, at Michaelmas a goose, And somewhat else at New Year's tide, for fear their lease fiy loose." And Bishop Hall, in his Satires, has the following allusion to the circumstance : — " Yet must he haunt his greedy landlord's hall, With often presents at each festival ; With crammed capons every New Year's morn, Or with green cheeses when his sheep are shorn." 95 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Good farmers in the country nurse The poor that else were undone ; Some landlords spend their money worse, On lust and pride at London. There the roysters they do play, Drab and dice their lands away, Which may be ours another day ; And therefore let 's be merry. The client now his suit forbears, The prisoner's heart is eased : The debtor drinks away his cares, And for the time is pleased. Though other purses be more fat, Why should we pine or grieve at that ? Hang sorrow ! care will kill a cat, And therefore let 's be merry. Hark ! how the wags abroad do call Each other forth to rambling : Anon you '11 see them in the hall For nuts and apples scrambling. Hark ! how the roofs with laughter sound ! Anon they '11 think the house goes round ; For they the cellar's depth have found, And there they will be merry. The wenches with their wassail bowls About the streets are singing ; The boys are come to catch the owls, The wild mare in is bringing. MERRY CHRISTMAS. Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,* And to the dealing of the ox Our honest neighbours come by flocks, And here they will be merry. Now kings and queens poor sheep cotes have, And mate with every body ; The honest now may play the knave, And wise men play the noddy. Some youths will now a mumming go, Some others play at Rowland-ho, And twenty other gambles mo, Because they will be merry. Then wherefore in these merry days Should we, I pray, be duller ? No, let us sing some roundelays, To make our mirth the fuller. And, whilst thus inspired we sing, Let all the streets with echoes ring, Woods and hills, and every thing, Bear witness we are merry. George Wither will be remembered as the author of many tender and graceful poems, some few of which invariably find a place in every collec- tion of early poetry. lie was one of those uncompromising spirits, formed by and for the age in which they live. He supported the cause of the Parliament with his satiric pen and good broadsword. He sold his estate to raise a regiment, and was made a major-general by Cromwell in return. The Restoration stripped him of everything he possessed ; still this was only a part of his misfortunes, for he was shortly after- wards imprisoned in the Tower on a charge of sedition, and, to increase his punishment, pens, ink, and paper were denied him. When he obtained his liberty is not known; he lived, however, to the good old age of seventy-nine, closing his troublous worldly career on May 2, 1 ()(>". • This alludes to the Christinas money-box, made of earthenware, which required to be broken to obtain possession of the money it held. 97 CHRISTMAS DAY. GEORGE WITHER. As on the night before this happy morn, A blessed angel unto shepherds told, Where (in a stable) He was poorly born, Whom nor the earth, nor heaven of heavens can hold Through Bethlem rung This news at their return ; Yea, angels sung That God with us was born ; And they made mirth because we should not mourn. Their angel-carol sing we, then, To God on high all glory be, For peace on earth bestoweth He, And showeth favour unto men. This favour Christ vouchsafed for our sake ; To buy us thrones, He in a manger lay ; Our weakness took, that we His strength might take ; And was disrobed that He might us array ; Our flesh He wore, Our sin to wear away ; Our curse He bore, That we escape it may ; And wept for us, that we might sing for aye. With angels, therefore, sing again, To God on high all glory be ; For peace on earth bestoweth He, And showeth favour unto men. us HYMN TO THE NATIVITY. JOHN MILTON. It was the winter wild, While the heaven-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies : Nature, in awe to 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 lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air, To hide her guilty front with innocent snow ; And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw ; Confounded, that her Maker's eyes, Should look so near upon her foul deformities. 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 cloud dividing ; And, waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. No war, or battle's sound, Was heard the world around : 99 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by. But peaceful was the night, Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began : The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kissed, Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 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. And, though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new enlightened world no more should need : He saw a greater Sun appear Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear. TIT J' - i HYMN TO THE NATIVITY. The shepherds on the lawn, Or ere the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row : Full little thought they then, That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below ; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook ; Divinely-warbled voice Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took : The air, such pleasure loath to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. Nature, that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light. That with long beams the shame-faced night arrayed ; The helmed cherubim, And s worded seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, 101 if J T ' — Harping in loud and solemn choir, With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new born Heir. Such music (as 't is said) Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung ; And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. Ring out, ye crystal spheres, Once bless our human ears, HYMN TO THE NATIVITY. If ye have power to touch our senses so ; And let your silver chime Move in melodious time ; And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow ; And, with your ninefold harmony, Make up full consort to the angelic symphony . For, if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the age of gold ; And speckled vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould ; And hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. Yea, truth and justice then Will down return to men, Orbed in a rainbow ; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering ; And heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. • But wisest Fate says No, This must not yet be so ; The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy, That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss ; So both Himself and us to glorify : Yet first, to those enchained in sleep, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the dee}). 103 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake : The aged earth, aghast With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the centre shake ; When, at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His throne. And then at last our bliss, Full and perfect is, But now begins ; for, from this happy day, The old dragon under ground, In straiter limits bound. Not half so far casts his usurped sway ; And, wrath to see his kingdom fail, Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale, Edged with poplar pale. The parting genius is with sighing sent ; 104 HYMN TO THE NATIVITY. With flower-inwoven tresses torn, The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint ; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying sound Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint; And the chill marble seems to sweat, While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat. Peor and Baalim Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-battered god of Palestine ; And mooned Ashtaroth, Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine ; The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn, In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest line; In vain with cymbals' ring, They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue ; The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove, or green, Trampling the unshowercd grass with lowings loud : CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest ; Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud ; In vain, with timbrelled anthems dark, The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark. He feels from Judah's land The dreaded Infant's hand, The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn ; Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide, Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine ; Our Babe, to show His Godhead true, Can in His swaddling bands control the damned crew. So, when the Sun in bed, Curtained with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail, Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave ; And the yellow-skirted fays, Fly after the night -steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. But see, the Virgin blest, Hath laid her Babe to rest ; Time is, our tedious song should here have ending : Heaven's youngest-teemed star Hath fixed her polished car, Her sleeping Lord, with handmaid lamp, attending : And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable. HYMN OF THE NATIVITY. Crashaw, the author of the annexed hymn, was the son of a clergy- man of the Church of England, and received his education at Cambridge ; after taking his degree he became a fellow of Peterhouse College. Refusing, however, to subscribe to the parliamentary covenant, he was ejected from his fellowship, when he proceeded to France and embraced the Roman Catholic faith. His conversion probably arose from interested motives, as, having been recommended to Henrietta Maria by his friend Cowley the poet, a canonry in the Church of Loretto was conferred on him. This dignity he only lived to enjoy for a short time, as he died of a fever in 1650, soon after his induction. HYMN OF THE NATIVITY. SUNG BY THE SHEPHERDS. RICHARD CRASHAW. -w^Q^-. Si OME we shepherds, whose blest sight Hath met Love's noon in Nature's night SMli^ Come lift we up our loftier song, And wake the sun that lies too long. To all our world of well-stoll'n joy, He slept, and dreamt of no such thing; While we found out Heaven's fairer eye, And kissed the cradle of our King ; Tell him he rises now too late To show us aught worth looking at. Tell him we now can show him more Than he e'er showed to mortal sight, — Than he himself e'er saw before, — Which to be seen needs not his light ; Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been ; Tell him, Thyrsis, what th' hast seen. Tit. Gloomy night embraced the place Where the noble Infant lay ; 107 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. The Babe looked up and showed His face — In spite of darkness it was day ; It was Thy day. Sweet ! and did rise, Not from the East, but from Thine eyes. Thyrs. Winter chid aloud, and sent The angry North to wage his wars ; The North forgot his fierce intent, And left perfumes instead of scars : By those sweet eyes' persuasive powers, Where he meant frost, he scattered flowers. Both. We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, Bright dawn of our eternal day ! We saw Thine eyes break from their East, And chase the trembling shades away : We saw Thee, and we blessed the sight, — We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light. Tit. Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do To entertain this starry Stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow, A cold, and not too cleanly, manger ? Contend, ye powers of heaven and earth, To fit a bed for this huge birth. Thyrs. Proud world, said I, cease your contest, And let the mighty Babe alone ; The phoenix build the phoenix' nest, Love's architecture is all one : The Babe whose birth embraves this morn, Made His own bed ere He was born. HYMN TO THE NATIVITY. Tit. I saw the curled drops, soft and slow, Come hovering o'er the place's head, Offering their whitest sheets of snow, To furnish the fair Infant's bed : Forbear, said I, be not too bold, Your fleece is white, but 't is too cold. Thijrs. I saw the obsequious seraphims Their rosy fleece of fire bestow, For well they now can spare their wings, Since Heaven itself lies here below : Well done, said I ; but are you sure Your down so warm will pass for pure ? Tit. No, no, your King 's not yet to seek Where to repose His royal head ; See, see, how soon His new-bloomed cheek 'Twixt mother's breasts is gone to bed. Sweet choice, said I, no way but so Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow. Both. We saw Thee in thy balmy nest, Bright dawn of our eternal day ; We saw Thine eyes break from their east, And chase the trembling shades away. We saw Thee, and we blessed the sight ; We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light. The following poem is by Bishop Jeremy Taylor, whose eloquent prose writings cause him to be regarded as one of the ornaments of the English Church. He was a man of singular humility and piety, and irreproachable in all the duties of life. During the civil troubles, he warmly attached himself to the cause of Charles I., one of whose chap- 109 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. lains he had been, and suffered imprisonment in consequence. He lived to lend the lustre of his name to the era following the Restoration, when a depraved monarch, and a licentious court, had banished both religious and moral purity beyond the circle of their pernicious influence. OF CHRIST'S BIRTH IN AN INN. JEREMY TAYLOR. The blessed Virgin travailed without pain, And lodged in an inn, A glorious star the sign, But of a greater guest than ever came that way, For there He lay That is the God of night and day, And over all the pow'rs of heav'n doth reign. It was the time of great Augustus' tax, And then He comes That pays all sums, Even the whole price of lost humanity ; And sets us free From the ungodly emperie Of Sin, of Satan, and of Death. O, make our hearts, blest God, Thy lodging-place, And in our breast Be pleased to rest, For Thou lov'st temples better than an inn, And cause that Sin May not profane the Deity within, And sully o'er the ornaments of grace. no CAROL. (From " New Carols for this Merry Time of Christmas," 1661.) All you that in this house be here, Remember Christ, that for us died ; And spend away with modest cheer In loving sort this Christmas tide. And, whereas plenty God hath sent, And never will a niggard prove. Our table spread within the hall, I know a banquet is at band, And friendly sort to welcome all That will unto their tacklings stand. The maids are bonny girls, I see, Who have provided much good cheer, Which, at my dame's commandment, be Now set upon the table here. And I have here two knives in store, To lend to him that wanteth one ; Commend my wits, good lads, therefore, That come now hither having none. For, if I should, no Christmas pie Would fall, I doubt, unto my share ; Wherefore, I will my manhood try, To fight a battle if I dare. Give frankly to your friends in love : The bounteous mind is freely bent, 1 1 1 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. For pastry-crust, like castle walls, Stands braving me unto my face ; I am not well until it falls, And I made captain of the place. The prunes, so lovely, look on me, I cannot choose but venture on : The pie-meat spiced brave I see, The which I must not let alone. Then, butler, fill me forth some beer, My song hath made me somewhat dry; And so, again, to this good cheer, I'll quickly fall, courageously. And for my master I will pray, With all that of his household are, Both old and young, that long we may Of God's good blessings have a share. CHRISTMAS SONG. (From "Poor Robin's Almanack," 1695.) OW thrice welcome Christmas, Which brings us good cheer, Minced pies and plum porridge, Good ale and strong beer ; With pig, goose, and capon, The best that can be. So well doth the weather And our stomachs agree. TTT CAROLS. ' Observe how the chimneys ^^j^^^"^^^ Do smoke all about, The cooks are providing W^^^^p'f^ For dinner, no doubt ; £f\ But those on whose tables w > f P mf&TY/^' No victuals appear, may they keep Lent SmKt^M*?"^ All the rest of the year ! ^^^^^^^^^^^^ With holly and ivy \^||^ So green and so gay j ^lll^H ^sF^^^J^ We deck up our houses ^^^pT^^ As fresh as the day, w <^ Delicate minced pies, YOU merry, merry souls, Christmas is a coming ; We shall have flowing bowls, Dancing, piping, drumming. To feast every virgin, If CHRISTMAS IS A COMING. Then for your Christmas-box Sweet plum-cakes and money, Delicate Holland smocks, Kisses sweet as honey. Hey for the Christmas ball, Where we shall be jolly ; Coupling short and tall, Kate, Dick, Ralph, and Molly. Then to the hop we'll go, Where we'll jig and caper ; Dancers- all a-row, Will shall pay the scraper. Hodge shall dance with Prue, Keeping time with kisses ; We'll have a jovial crew Of sweet smirking misses. 141 T7 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. WINTER* WILLIAM COWPEE. wtnter, ruler of the inverted year, Thy scattered hair with sleet like ashes filled, Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks Fringed with a beard made white with other snows Than those of age, thy forehead wrapped in clouds, A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne A sliding car, indebted to no wheels, But urged by storms along its slippery way, 1 love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, And dreaded as thou art ! Thou hold'st the sun A prisoner in the yet undawning east, Shortening his journey between morn and noon, And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still Compensating his loss with added hours Of social converse and instructive ease, And gathering, at short notice, in one group, The family dispersed, and fixing thought, Not less dispersed by daylight and its cares. I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening know. * From "The Task.' U2 DIVISION VI. CHRISTMAS VERSES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. FEW words will suffice by way of intro- duction to the Christmas Poems of the nineteenth century, as these, for the most part, treat of customs and peculiarities familiar to all. The picturesque cere- monies and rude festivities that distin- guished the Christinas of bygone times, have passed away, and, for ourselves, we can regard the loss of them without regret . We are too thankful to have lighted upon a more civilized age, and to have escaped all the troubles, dangers, and miseries with which the " good old times " were so thickly beset, to grieve overmuch for the loss of even the better part of them. We conceive that Queen Victoria can celebrate her Christmas with her accustomed gra- cious hospitality, without its being necessary for the Lord Chamberlain to assume the character, and perform all the absurdities, of a Lord of Misrule. And, although the office of poet-laureate has come to be regarded as in- consistent with the spirit of the present age, yet it was an advantageous change for the fooleries of a court-jester. We are well content, too, that the Christmas pantomime, and an occasional Bal-Masque, should be the only existing remnants of the absurd Mummings of our ancestors. The Yule log and the Wassail bowl are beyond revival, and even the Christmas carol is falling into desuetude. The practice of decking churches and houses with evergreens is, perhaps, the most honoured of all the old Christmas customs. The Boar's head has still a place in the Christmas banquet at one of our colleges, and at the mansions of some few of our nobility ; yet, even this once favourite dish is very nigh dis- placed by the formidable baron of beef. It is at Queen's College, Oxford, that the Boar's head is brought, on Christmas day, to the high table in the Hall, while an altered version of the Old Carol printed by Wynkin de Worde, is chanted forth by a band of attendant choristers. The following picturesque and oft-quoted description of Christmas in the olden time, is from the introduction to the sixth canto of " Marmion." CHRISTMAS IN THE OLDEN TIME. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Heap on more wood ! — the wind is chill ; But let it whistle as it will, We '11 keep our Christmas merry still. Each age has deemed the new-horn year The fittest time for festal cheer. And well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had rolled, And brought blithe Christmas back again, With all his hospitable train. Domestic and religious rite Gave honour to the holy night : On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; On Christmas eve the mass was sung ; That only night, in all the year, Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. The damsel donned her kirtle sheen : The hall was dressed with holly green ; Forth to the wood did merry men go, To gather in the mistletoe ; Then opened wide the baron's hall To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; Power laid his rod of rule aside, And ceremony doffed his pride. The heir, with roses in his shoes, That night might village partner choose. / The lord, underogating, share The vulgar game of " post and pair." All hailed, with uncontrolled delight, And general voice, the happy night, That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down. The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide ; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubbed, till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn By old. blue-coated, serving man ; Then the grim boar's head, frowned on high, Crested, with bays and rosemary. Well can the green-garbed ranger tell, How, when, and where, the monster fell ; ess ^ w^x^^^ 145 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar. The Wassail round, in good brown bowls, Garnished with ribbons, blithly trowls. There the huge sirloin reeked ; hard by Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie ; Nor failed old Scotland to produce, At such high tide, her savoury goose. Then came the merry masquers in, And carols roared with blithsome din ; If unmelodious was the song, It was a hearty note, and strong, Who lists may in their mumming see Traces of ancient mystery ; White shirts supplied the masquerade, And smutted cheeks the vizors made ; But, O ! what masquers, richly dight, Can boast of bosoms half so light ! England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'T was Christmas broached the mightiest ale ; 'T was Christmas told the merriest tale ; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year. WASSAIL. WASSAIL. (From " Ainsworth's Magazine," 1848.) Wassail ! wassail! Ye merry men, hail, Who brightened the days of old ; What brave conceits, and humorsome feats, Are sung of our fathers bold ! From morning chime, unto vesper time, They revelled in careless glee, And danced at night with spirits as light As the notes of their minstrelsy. Wassail ! wassail ! At the knight's regale 'T was the signal for deep carouse, Nor there alone, for the joyous tone Shook many a priestly house ; The monks forgot their bachelor's lot, Surrounded by goodly cheer, And raised the cup, in its brim full up, To the utter contempt of care. Wassail ! wassail ! cried the yeoman hale, As he shouldered his quarter-staff, And homeward rode where the spiced ale stood Awaiting his hearty quaff ; The cot meanwhile, lit up by the smile Of a frank, good-hearted mirth, And free to all who might chance to call, Was the happiest place on earth ! CHRISTMAS MINSTRELSY. ADDRESSED TO THE REV. DR. WORDSWORTH. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. HE Minstrels played their Christmas tune To-night beneath my cottage eaves ; While, smitten by a lofty moon, The encircling laurels, thick with leaves Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, That overpowered their natural green. Through hill and valley every breeze Had sunk to rest with folded wings : Keen was the air, but could not freeze, Nor check the music of the strings ; So stout and hardy were the band That scraped the chords with strenuous hand & CHRISTMAS MINSTRELSY. And who but listened ? — till was paid Respect to every inmate's claim : The greeting given, the music played, In honour of each household name, Duly pronounced with lusty call, And ei merry Christmas" wished to all! () brother ! I revere the choice That took thee from thy native hills ; And it is given thee to rejoice : Though public care full often tills (Heaven only witness of the toil) A barren and ungrateful soil. Yet, would that thou, with me and mine, Hadst heard this never-failing rite ; And seen on other faces shine A true revival of the light, Which Nature and these rustic powers, In simple childhood, spread through ours ! For pleasure hath not ceased to wait On these expected annual rounds; Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate Call forth the unelaborate sounds. Or they are offered at the door That guards the lowliest of the poor. How touching, when, at midnight, sweep Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark, To hear — and sink again to sleep ! Or, at an earlier call, to mark, By blazing fire, the still suspense Of self-complacent innocence ! CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. The mutual nod, — the grave disguise Of hearts with gladness brimming o'ei • And some unbidden tears that rise For names once heard, and heard no more ; Tears brightened by the serenade For infant in the cradle laid. Ah ! not for emerald fields alone, With ambient streams more pure and bright Than fabled Cytherea's zone Glittering before the Thunderer's sight, Is to my heart of hearts endeared The ground where we were born and reared ! Hail, ancient Manners ! sure defence, Where they survive, of wholesome laws ; Remnants of love whose modest sense Thus into narrow room withdraws ; Hail, Usages of pristine mould, And ye that guard them, Mountains old ! Bear with me, brother ! quench the thought That slights this passion, or condemns ; 1 f thee fond Fancy ever brought From the proud margin of the Thames, And Lambeth's venerable towers, To humbler streams and greener bowers. Yes, they can make, who fail to find, Short leisure even in busiest days, Moments to cast a look behind, And profit by those kindly rays That through the clouds do sometimes steal, And all the far-off past reveal. A CHRISTMAS CAROL. Hence, while the imperial City's din Beats frequent on thy satiate ear, A pleased attention I may win To agitations less severe, That neither overwhelm nor cloy, But fill the hollow vale with joy ! A CHRISTMAS CAROL. SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE. HE shepherds went their hasty way, And found the lowly stable shed Where the virgin mother lay : And now they checked their eager tread, For, to the babe that at her bosom clung, A mother's song the virgin mother sung. They told her how a glorious light, Streaming from a heavenly throng, Around them shone, suspending night ! While, sweeter than a mother's song, Blest angels heralded the Saviour's birth, Glory to God on high ! and peace on earth. She listened to the tale divine, And closer still the babe she pressed : And while she cried, The babe is mine ! The milk rushed faster to her breast : CHRISTMAS WITH THE PORTS. Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn ; Peace, peace on earth! the Prince of Peace is born. Thou mother of the Prince of Peace, Poor, simple, and of low estate, That strife should vanish, battle cease, O why should this thy soul elate ? Sweet music's loudest note, the poet's story, — Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory ? And is not war a youthful king, A stately hero clad in mail ? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring ; Him earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate ! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh. {i Tell this in some more courtly scene, To maids and youths in robes of state ! 1 am a woman poor and mean, And, therefore, is my soul elate. War is a ruffian, all with guilt denied, That from the aged father tears his child ! u A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, He kills the sire and starves the son ; The husband kills, and from her board Steals all his widow's toil had won ! Plunders God's world of beauty ; rends away All safety from the night, all comfort from the day. " Then wisely is my soul elate, That strife should vanish, battle cease ; CHRISTMAS CAROL. I'm poor and of a low estate, The mother of the Prince of Peace. Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn : Peace, peace on earth, the Prince of Peace is born CHRISTMAS CAROL, FELICIA HEMAXS. () lovely voices of the sky, That hymned the Saviour's birth ! Are ye not singing still on high, Ye that sang, " Peace on earth ? " To us yet speak the strains, Wherewith, in days gone by, Ye blessed Syrian swains, O voices of the sky ! O clear and shining light, whose beams That hour heaven's glory shed Around the palms, and o'er the streams, And on the shepherds' head ; Be near through life and death, As in that holiest night Of Hope, and Joy, and Faith, O clear and shining light ! O star which led to Him, whose love Brought down man's ransom free ; Where art thou ? — 'midst the hosts above, May we still gaze on thee ? — CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. In heaven thou art not set, Thy rays earth might not dim — Send them to guide us yet ! O star which led to Him ! CHRISTMAS HAY. SAMUEL KICKAKDS. Though rude winds usher thee, sweet day, Though clouds thy face deform, Though nature's grace is swept away Before thy sleety storm ; E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, Of blessed days thou art most blest. Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn Shall check our jubilee ; Bright is the day when Christ was born, No sun need shine but he ; Let roughest storms their coldest blow, With love of Him our hearts shall glow. Inspired with high and holy thought, Fancy is on the wing ; It seems as to mine ear it brought Those voices carolling, Voices through heaven and earth that ran, Glory to God, good- will to man. I see the shepherds gazing wild At those fair spirits of light ; CHRISTMAS DAY. I see them bending o'er the child With that untold delight, Which marks the face of those who view Things but too happy to be true. There, in the lowly manger laid, Incarnate God they see, He stoops to take, through spotless maid, Our frail humanity ; Son of high God, creation's Heir, He leaves His heaven to raise us there. Through Him, Lord, we are born anew, Thy children once again, Oh day by day our hearts renew, That thine we may remain ; And angel-like may all agree, One sweet and holy family. Oft as this joyous morn doth come To speak our Saviour's love, Oh, may it bear our spirits home Where He now reigns above ; That day which brought Him from the skies So man restores to Paradise. Then let winds usher thee sweet day, Let clouds thy face deform, Though nature's grace is swept away Before thy sleety storm ; E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, Of blessed days thou art most blest. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. A CHRISTMAS HYMN. ALFRED DOMMETT. It was the calm and silent night ! Seven hundred years and fifty-three, Had Rome been growing up to might, And now was queen of land and sea ! No sound was heard of clashing wars — Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain ; Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars, Held undisturbed their ancient reign, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago ! 'T was in the calm and silent night ! The Senator of haughty Rome, Impatient urged his chariot's flight, From lordly revel rolling home ! Triumphal arches, gleaming, swell His breast with thoughts of boundless sway What recked the Roman what befel A paltry province far away, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago ! Within that province far away, Went plodding home a weary boor ; A streak of light before him lay, Fallen through a half- shut stable -door 156 A CHRISTMAS HYMN. Across his path. He paused, for nought Told what was going on within : I tow keen the stars ! his only thought ; The air how calm, and cold, and thin, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago ! Oh, strange indifference ! — low and high, Drowsed over common joys and cares ; The earth was still, but knew not why ; The world was listening — unawares ! How calm a moment may precede One that shall thrill the world forever ! To that still moment none would heed ; Man's doom was linked, no more to sever. In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago ! It is the calm and silent night ! A thousand bells ring out, and throw Their joyous peals abroad, and smite The darkness — charmed and holy now ! The night that erst no shame had worn, To it a happier name is given ; For in the stable lay, new-born, The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago ! 1 57 THE NATIVITY. W. J. BLEW. Night is set in, the stars their lamps are raising ; Each dewy flower hath closed its perfumed chalice ; O'er the hlue hills the city lights are blazing, And the gay cressets gleam in cot and palace. Down the green sheep tracks rest the flocks enf olden, Round their still cotes the hinds their fires are waking, While in the homes of Bethlehem lie holden Eyes all unconscious of the mystery breaking. Oli, wonder of all wonders, The hinds their watch are keeping, A babe is in the manger — Christ Jesus there is sleeping ; The oxen round Him lowing, The ass his forehead bowing, The maiden mother kneeling, While night is o'er them stealing. Soon shall a fire-flood kindle up the horizon, Paling the night stars in their fairy shining, Paling the broad sun at his first uprising, Paling the bright moon at his red declining. Hark, through the opened lattice of Heaven's portals Soundeth — " To God be glory in the highest, Peace be on earth ; Good will to loving mortals." Peace to thee, Christian, while with joy thou criest. Oh, wonder of all wonders, The hinds their watch are keeping, A babe is in the manger — Christ Jesus there is sleeping ; CHRISTMAS MORNING. The ox around him lowing, The ass his forehead bowing, The maiden mother kneeliin CHRISTMAS MORNING. EDWARD MOXON. OW holier thoughts awake my rhyme, The village bells with pealing chime And sweeter far their notes to me Than those of loudest revelry. To yonder heaven-pointing spire Is bent the charitable Squire, CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Where consecrated branches spread Their weeping tendrils o'er the dead ; While there the elm and sable yew Lend all their ruggedness to view. Nor shield they now with leafy bloom The villager's unsculptured tomb ; As when, with summer foliage crowned, They hid from gaze each little mound. Lo, where a goodly blooming train, The maiden artless, and the swain ; They hear the summons from afar, And gather where the holy are. The aged sire there bends his way, No staff his feeble arm to stay, But one whose joy has been to share, As now, thro' life his pious prayer. They hie their tribute just to pay To Him who lengthened has their day ; Within yon deeply-shaded pile Where meek Religion 's seen to smile, As if the wayward to beguile ; While decked with modest evergreen Her sanctuary may be seen ; A token sure of heavenly grace, Befitting such a holy place. The Squire upon his bended knee, With all his family we see, Gracing the velvet cushioned pew With every meek observance due. O may each humble heart now share The Church's venerable prayer, And may this day of all the year CHRISTMAS TIME. The best and holiest appear : And 'mid our deep affliction show The bliss unmerited below, Which Christ descended to bestow. — ♦ — CHRISTMAS TIME. JOHN CLARE. Glad Christmas comes, and every hearth Makes room to give him welcome now, E'en want will dry its tears in mirth, And crown him with a holly bough ; Though tramping 'neath a winter sky, O'er snowy paths and rimy stiles, The housewife sets her spinning by, To bid him welcome with her smiles. Each house is swept the day before, And windows stuck with evergreens, The snow is besomed from the door, And comfort crowns the cottage scenes. Gilt holly with its thorny pricks, And yew, and box, with berries small, These deck the unused candlesticks, And pictures hanging by the wall. Neighbours resume their annual cheer, Wishing, with smiles and spirits high, Glad Christmas and a happy year, To every morning passer-by ; CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Milkmaids their Christmas journeys go, Accompanied by a favoured swain ; And children pace the crumpling snow, To taste their granny's cake again. The shepherd now no more afraid, Since custom doth the chance bestow, Starts up to kiss the giggling maid, Beneath the branch of mistletoe, That 'neath each cottage beam is seen, With pearl-like berries shining gay ; The shadow still of what hath been, Which fashion yearly fades away. 162 CHRISTMAS. The singing waits — a merry throng, At early morn, with simple skill, Yet imitate the angels' song, And chant their Christmas ditty still ; And, 'mid the storm that dies and swells By fits, in hummings softly steals The music of the village bells, Ringing around their merry peals. When this is past, a merry crew, Bedecked in masks and ribbons gay, The Morris Dance, their sports renew, And act their winter evening play. The clown turned king, for penny praise, Storms with the actor's strut and swell, And harlequin, a laugh to raise, Wears his hunch-back and tinkling bell. And oft for pence and spicy ale, With winter nosegays pinned before, The wassail-singer tells her tale, And drawls her Christmas carols o'er. While 'prentice boy, with ruddy face, ' And rime-bepowdered dancing locks, From door to door, with happy face, Runs round to claim his " Christmas-box." The block upon the fire is put, To sanction custom's old desires, And many a fagot's bands are cut, For the old farmer's Christmas fires ; ' Where loud-tongued gladness joins the throng, And Winter meets the warmth of May, CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Till, feeling soon the heat too strong, He rubs his shins and draws away. While snows the window-panes bedim, The fire curls up a sunny charm, Where, creaming o'er the pitcher's rim, The flowering ale is set to warm. Mirth, full of joy as summer bees, Sits there its pleasures to impart, And children, 'tween their parents' knees, Sing scraps of carols off by heart. And some, to view the winter weathers, Climb up the window seat with glee, Likening the snow to falling feathers, In fancy's infant ecstacy ; Laughing, with superstitions love, O'er visions wild that youth supplies, Of people pulling geese above, And keeping Christmas in the skies. As though the homestead trees were drest. In lieu of snow, with dancing leaves, As though the sun-dried martin's nest, Instead of ic'cles hung the eaves ; The children hail the happy day — As if the snow were April's grass, And pleased, as 'neath the warmth of May, Sport o'er the water froze to glass. Thou day of happy sound and mirth That long with childish memory stays, TLX 1 I CHRISTMAS. How blest around the cottage hearth, I met thee in my younger days, Harping, with rapture's dreaming joys, On presents which thy coming found, The welcome sight of little toys, The Christmas gift of cousins round. About the glowing hearth at night, The harmless laugh and winter tale Go round ; while parting friends delight To toast each other o'er their ale. The cotter oft with quiet zeal Will, musing, o'er his Bible lean ; While, in the dark the lovers steal, To kiss and toy behind the screen. Old customs ! ! I love the sound, However simple they may be ; Whate'er with time hath sanction found, Is welcome, and is dear to me, Pride grows above simplicity, And spurns them from her haughty mind : And soon the poet's song will be The only refuge they can find. 165 — 2 — CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR, THOMAS MILLER. Those Christmas bells so sweetly chime, As on the day when first they rung So merrily in the olden time, And far and wide their music flung : Shaking the tall gray ivied tower, With all their deep melodious power : They still proclaim to every ear, Old Christmas comes but once a year. Then he came singing through the woods, And plucked the holly bright and green ; Pulled here and there the ivy buds ; Was sometimes hidden, sometimes seen— Half-buried 'neath the mistletoe, His long beard hung with flakes of snow ; And still he ever carolled clear, Old Christmas comes but once a year. He merrily came in days of old, When roads were few, and ways were foul, Now staggered, — now some ditty trolled, Now drank deep from his wassail bowl ; His holly silvered o'er with frost. Nor ever once his way he lost, For reeling here and reeling there, Old Christmas comes but once a year. The hall was then with holly crowned, 'T was on the wild deer's antlers placed ; CHRISTMAS COMES MJT ONCE A YEAR. It hemmed the battered armour round, And every ancient trophy graced. It decked the hoar's head, tusked and grim The wassail bowl wreathed to the brim. A summer-green hung everywhere, For Christmas came but once a year. His jaded steed the armed knight Reined up before the abbey gate ; By all assisted to alight, From humble monk, to abbot great. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. They placed his lance behind the door, His armour on the rush-strewn floor ; And then brought out the best of cheer, For Christmas came but once a year. The maiden then, in quaint attire, Loosed from her head the silken hood, And danced before the yule-clog fire — The crackling monarch of the wood, Helmet and shield flashed back the blaze, In lines of light, like summer rays, While music sounded loud and clear ; For Christmas came but once a year. What, though upon his hoary head, Have fallen many a winter's snow, His wreath is still as green and red As 't was a thousand years ago. For what has he to do with care ? His wassail-bowl and old arm-chair Are ever standing ready there, For Christmas comes but once a year. No marvel Christmas lives so long, He never knew but merry hours, His nights were spent with mirth and song, In happy homes, and princely bowers ; Was greeted both by serf and lord, And seated at the festal board ; While every voice cried, " Welcome here," Old Christmas comes but once a year. But what care we for days of old, The knights whose arms have turned to rust, CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR. Their grim boar's heads, and pasties cold, Their castles crumbled into dust ? Never did sweeter faces go, Blushing beneath the mistletoe, Than are to-night assembled here, For Christmas still comes once a year. For those old times are dead and gone, And those who hailed them passed away, Yet still there lingers many a one, To welcome in old Christmas Day. The poor will many a care forget, The debtor think not of his debt ; But, as they each enjoy their cheer, Wish it was Christmas all the year. And still around these good old times We hang like friends full loath to part, We listen to the simple rhymes Which somehow sink into the heart, "Half musical, half melancholy," Like childish smiles that still are holy ; A masquer's face dimmed with a tear, For Christmas comes but once a year. The bells which usher in that morn, Have ever drawn my mind away To Bethlehem, where Christ was born, And the low stable where He lay, In which the large- eyed oxen fed ; To Mary bowing low her head, And looking down with love sincere, Such thoughts bring Christmas once a year. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. At early day the youthful voice, Heard singing on from door to door, Makes the responding heart rejoice, To know the children of the poor For once are happy all day long ; We smile and listen to the song, The burthen still remote or near, " Old Christmas comes but once a year." Upon a gayer, happier scene, Never did holly berries peer, Or ivy throw its trailing green, On brighter forms than there are here, Nor Christmas in his old arm-chair Smile upon lips and brows more fair : Then let us sing amid our cheer, Old Christmas still comes once a year. CHRISTMAS TIDE. ELIZA. COOK. When the merry spring-time weaves It peeping bloom and dewy leaves ; When the primrose opes its eye, And the young moth flutters by ; When the plaintive turtle-dove Pours its notes of peace and love ; And the clear sun flings its glory bright and wide — ■ Yet my soul will own More joy in winter's frown, And wake with warmer flush at Christmas tide. The summer beams may shine On the rich and curling vine, And the noontide rays light up The tulip's dazzling cup ; But the pearly mistletoe, And the holly berries' glow, Are not even by the boasted rose outvied ; For the happy hearths beneath The green and coral wreath Love the garlands that are twined at Christmas tide. Let the autumn days produce Yellow corn and purple juice, And Nature's feast be spread In the fruitage ripe and red ; 'T is grateful to behold Gushing grapes, and fields of gold, When cheeks are browned, and red lips deeper dyed ; But give, oh ! give to me, The winter night of glee, The mirth and plenty seen at Christmas tide. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. The northern gust may howl, The rolling storm-cloud scowl, King Frost may make a slave Of the river's rapid wave ; The snow-drift choke the path, Or the hail-shower spend its wrath, But the sternest blast right bravely is defied, While limbs and spirits bound To the merry minstrel sound, And social wood-fires blaze at Christmas tide. The song, the laugh, the shout, Shall mock the storm without ; And the sparkling wine-foam rise 'Neath still more sparkling eyes ; The forms that scarcely meet . Then hand to hand shall greet, And soul pledge soul that leagues too long divide. Mirth, friendship, love, and light, Shall crown the winter night, And every glad voice welcome Christmas tide. But while joy's echo falls In gay and plenteous halls, Let the poor and lowly share The warmth, the sports, the fare ; For the one of humble lot Must not shiver in his cot, But claim a bounteous meed from wealth and pride. Shed kindly blessings round, Till no aching heart be found, And then all hail to merry Christmas tide ! / w THE MAHOGANY TREE. W. X. THACKERAY Ciiutstmas is here; Evenings we knew, Winds whistle shrill, Happy as this ; Icy and chill : Faces we miss, Little care we. Pleasant to see. Little we fear Kind hearts and true, Weather without, Gentle and just, Sheltered ahout Peace to your dust ! The Mahogany Tree. We sing round the tree. Commoner greens, Care, like a dun, Ivy and oaks, Lurks at the gate : Popts iti iokes X. \S \_ tO j 1U JUiVvOj Let the dog wait ; Sing, do you see ; Happy we '11 be ! Good fellows' shins Drink every one ; Here, boys, are found, Pile up the coals, r P vvi T lo^ The Mahogany Tree. Round the old tree ! Once on the bou°'hs Drain we the cup. — Birds of rnrp nlnmp Friend, art afraid ? Sang, in its bloom : Spirits are laid Ni°ht birds are we : In the Red Sea. Here we carouse, Mantle it up ; Sin o in Yfa/^* Young man and maiden mild, ^^^W^^^f^ Come gather here ; '^^S^^f^ And let your hearts grow fonder, '^^a^lhixK^n ^ As memory shall ponder ^^H^^fe^f^,f^^ Each past unbroken vow. ^ ^^i^W*^ Old loves and younger wooing Are sweet in the renewing '^fifer ]y nJ^'^^JJ' Under the holly bough. ^^^^^^^ Ye who have nourished sadness, ^Hgf^R^C^L^^^^- Estranged from hope and gladness, y^}®^ In this fast-fading year ; ^KHfi^ffl Ye, with o'erburdened mind, Made aliens from your kind, \ ^3^V'' '(^/ Come gather here. $ ^vftw^ Let not the useless sorrow ^osV^3r Pursue you night and morrow. ' ^T^^^j^ If e'er you hoped, hope now — Y^ 1 ^^^^^^^ Take heart ; — uncloud your faces, ^^^^^B^ ^Jp§ And join in our embraces, ^^Z^^Sjm!^^^ Under the holly bough. THE HOLLY BERRY. 1^^^^^ THOMAS MILLER. Cj^Sf PTl^V^ Gone are the summer hours, loJg^^ The birds have left their bowers ; fe^xJy While the holly true retains his hue, i^f^^^^f ' Nor changes like the flowers. ;l }y K I ^ - 187 _j - . ... , . ... -•ci "5 i -A CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. ^ On his armed leaf reposes r #&l The berries tinged like roses ; For he's ever seen in red or green, While grim old Winter dozes. Vi hen drink to the holly berry, With hey down, hey down derry ; The mistletoe we '11 pledge also, And at Christmas all be merry. Above all cold affections, Like pleasant recollections, The ivy grows, and a deep veil throws O'er all Time's imperfections ; The mould'ring column screening, The naked gateway greening, While the falling shrine it doth entwine Like a heart that 's homeward leaning Then drink, &c. We read in ancient story, How the Druids in their glory Marched forth of old, with hooks of gold To forests dim and hoary ; The giant oak ascended, Then from its branches rended The mistletoe, long long ago, By maidens fair attended. Then drink, &c. Each thorpe and grange surrounding, The waits to music bounding, 1 ;fT Aroused the cook, that her fire might smoke Ere the early cock was sounding. 188 THE CHRISTMAS HOLLY. For all the land was merry, And rang with " Hey down derry," While in castle hall, and cottage small, There glittered the holly berry. The holly ! the holly ! oh, twine it with bay- Come give the holly a song ; For it helps to drive stern winter away, With his garment so sombre and long ; It peeps through the trees with its berries of red, And its leaves of burnished green, When the flowers and fruits have long been dead, And not even the daisy is seen. Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, That hangs over peasant and king ; While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glitt'ring boughs, To the Christmas holly we '11 sing. The gale may whistle, the frost may come To fetter the gurgling rill ; The woods may be bare, and warblers dumb, But holly is beautiful still. In the revel and light of princely halls The bright holly branch is found ; And its shadow falls on the lowliest walls, While the brimming horn goes round. Then drink to the holly, &c. Then drink, &c. THE CHRISTMAS HOLLY. ELIZA COOK. 189 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. The ivy lives long, but its home must be Where graves and ruins are spread ; There's beauty about the cypress tree, But it flourishes near the dead ; The laurel the warrior's brow may wreathe, But it tells of tears and blood ; I sing the holly, and who can breathe Aught of that that is not good ? Then sing to the holly, &c. THE MISTLETOE. (From "Eraser's Magazine," 1835.) Of all the nights within the year, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! That's the night to lovers dear, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! When blushing lips, that smile at folly. As red as berries on the holly, Kiss, and banish melancholy. Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Ice was glittering on the farm, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Woman's heart was beating warm, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! And woman's eyes, when frost is near, And chilly drooping snows appear, Can make the sunny time of year. Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Roger Rood the fiddle played, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Tin * , THE MISTLETOE. Mary at his elbow stayed. Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! And, oh ! we saw by each fond look, And how his trembling quavers shook, Her beauty was his music book. Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Much he tuned and much he sung - , Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Mary still about him hung, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Till, taking courage, he advanced, And struck a jig; then how we danced, But Mary for his partner chanced. Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Mary tripped with panting breath, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Till the magic bough beneath, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Then she feigned undone her shoe, But the swain her mischief knew, And seized a kiss — it might be two. Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Then the kissing time begun, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! Men looked shy, and lasses fun, Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! But honest men, whom girls believe, Throughout the year would sigh and grieve, Did they not kiss on Christmas-eve. Oh, oh, the mistletoe ! I'M THE MISTLETOE. BARRY CORNWALL. When winter nights grow long, And winds without blow cold, We sit in a ring round the warm wood hie, And listen to stories old ! And we try to look grave (as maids should be), When the men bring in boughs of the laurel tree. O, the laurel, the evergreen tree ! The poets have laurels, and why not we ? How pleasant, when night falls down, And hides the wintry sun, To see them come in to the blazing fire, And know that their work is done ; Whilst many bring in, with a laugh or rhyme, Green branches of holly for Christmas time. O, the holly, the bright green holly ! It tells (like a tongue) that the times are jolly ! Sometimes — (in our grave house Observe, this happeneth not ; ) But at times the evergreen laurel boughs, And the holly are all forgot, And then — what then ? why, the men laugh low, And hang up a branch of the mistletoe ! Oh, brave is the laurel ! and brave is the holly, But the mistletoe banisheth melancholy ! Ah, nobody knows, nor ever shall know, What is done under the mistletoe. 192 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. How God the Eternal Son Came to undo what we had done ; How God the Paraclete, Who in the chaste womb formed the Babe so sweet, In power and glory came, the birth to aid and greet. Wake me, that I the twelvemonth long May bear the song About with me in the world's throng ; That treasured joys of Christmas tide May with mine hour of gloom abide ; The Christmas Carol ring Deep in my heart, when I would sing ; Each of the twelve good days Its earnest yield of duteous love and praise, Ensuring happy months, and hallowing common ways. Wake me again, my mother dear, That I may hear The peal of the departing year. O well I love, the step of Time Should move to that familiar chime : Fair fall the tones that steep The Old Year in the dews of sleep, The New guide softly in With hopes to sweet, sad memories akin ! Long may that soothing cadence ear, heart, conscience win. DIRGE FOR THE YEAR. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. Orphan hours, the year is dead, Come and sigh, come and weep ! Merry hours smile instead, For the year is but asleep. See, it smiles as it is sleeping, Mocking your untimely weeping. As an earthquake rocks a corse In its coffin in the clay, So White Winter, that rough nurse, Rocks the death- cold year to-day ; Solemn hours ! wail aloud For your mother in her shroud. As the wild air stirs and sways The tree-swung cradle of a child, So the breath of these rude days Rocks the year : — be calm and mild, Trembling hours, she will arise With new love within her eyes. January gray is here, Like a sexton by her grave ; February bears the bier, March with grief doth howl and rave, And April weeps — but, O, ye hours, Follow with May's fairest flowers. THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR. ALFRED TENNYSON. L knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighin ye the chureh-bell sad and slow, And tread softly, and speak low. For the Old year lies a- dying. '^yj^' Old year, you must not die ; You came to us so readily, Y 7 ou lived with us so steadily, Old year, you shall not die. THE DEATH OE THE OLD YEAR. He lieth still : he doth not move : He will not see the dawn of day. hath no other life above. gave me a friend, and a true, true love, And the new year will take 'em away. He He Old year you must not go ; So long as you have been with us, Such joy as you have seen with us Old year, you shall not go. He frothed his bumpers to the brim ; And though his foes speak ill of him, He was a friend to me. Old year, you shall not die ; We did so laugh and cry with you. I've half a mind to die with you, Old year, if you must die. He was full of joke and jest, But all his merry quips are o'er. To see him die, across the waste His son and heir doth ride post haste, But he'll be dead before. The night is starry and cold, my friend, And the New year blithe and bold, my friend Comes up to take his own. How hard he breathes ! over the snow I heard just now the crowing cock. A jollier year we shall not see. But though his eyes are waxing dim, Every one for his own. CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. The shadows flicker to and fro : The cricket chirps : the light burns low : 'T is nearly twelve o'clock. Shake hands, before you die. Old Year, we'll dearly rue for you : What is it we can do for you ? Speak out before you die. His face is growing sharp and thin. Alack our friend is gone. Close up his eyes : tie up his chin : Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone, And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And a new face at the door, my friend, A new face at the door. NEW YEAR'S DAY. HARTLEY COLERIDGE. While the bald trees stretch forth their long lank arms, And starving birds peck nigh the reeky farms : While houseless cattle paw the yellow field, Or coughing shiver in the pervious bield, And nought more gladsome in the hedge is seen, Than the dark holly's grimly glistening green — At such a time, the ancient year goes by To join its parents in eternity — At such a time the merry year is born, Like the bright berry from the naked thorn. NEW YEAR'S DAY. The bells ring out ; the hoary steeple rocks — Hark the long story of a score of clocks ; For, once a year, the village clocks agree, E'en clocks unite to sound the hour of glee — And every cottage has a light awake, Unusual stars long flicker o'er the lake. The moon on high if any moon be there, May peep, or wink, no mortal now will care, For 't is the season, when the nights are long, There's time, e'er morn, for each to sing his song. The year departs, a blessing on its head, We mourn not for it, for it is not dead : Dead ? What is that ? A word to joy unknown, Which love abhors, and faith will never own. A word, whose meaning sense could never find, That has no truth in matter, nor in mind. The passing breezes gone as soon as felt, The flakes of snow that in the soft air melt, The wave that whitening curls its frothy crest, And falls asleep upon its mother's breast. The smile that sinks into a maiden's eye, They come, they go, they change, they do not die. So the Old year — that fond and formal name, Is with us yet, another and the same. And are the thoughts, that ever more are fleeing, The moments that make up our being's being, The silent workings of unconscious love, Or the dull hate which clings and will not move, In the dark caverns of the gloomy heart, The fancies wild and horrible, which start 199 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Like loathsome reptiles from their crankling holes, From foul, neglected corners of our souls, Are these less vital than the wave or wind, Or snow that melts and leaves no trace behind ? Oh ! let them perish all, or pass away,' And let our spirits feel a New-year's day. A New-year's day — 'tis but a term of art, An arbitrary line upon the chart Of Time's unbounded sea — fond fancy's creature, To reason alien, and unknown to nature. Nay — 'tis a joyful day, a day of hope ! Bound, merry dancer, like an antelope ; And as that lovely creature, far from man, Gleams through the spicy groves of Hindostan , Flash through the labyrinth of the mazy dance, With foot as nimble, and as keen a glance — And we, whom many New-year's days hath told The sober truth, that we are growing old — For this one night — aye and for many more — Will be as jocund as we were of yore, Kind hearts can make December blithe as May, And in each morrow find a New-year's day. This collection of Poems, pertaining to the Christmas season, which comprehends the entire range of English literature, from its earliest dawn to the end of the first half of the ninteenth century, cannot have a more appropriate close than the following poem, extracted from Tennyson's " In Memoriam," one of the most noble and divine works this later age has given birth to. And, in the hope that all who peruse it may respond to the Christian and prophetic spirit which pervades every line, the Editor of this collection here concludes his pleasant labours. 200 Ring out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more ; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife ; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times ; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite ; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. 201 CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be. tt£ GETTY CENTER