In The Yule-Log Glow--Book 3 | Page 9

sorrow lie;
And if for cold it
hap to die,
We'll bury 't in a Christmas-pie,
And evermore be merry.
Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labor;
Our
lasses have provided them
A bagpipe and a tabor;
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
For
crowdy-mutton's come out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jill
shall dance,
And all the town be merry.
Ned Squash has fetched his bands from pawn,
And all his best
apparel;
Brisk Ned 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.

Now poor men to the justices
With capons make their arrants;
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.
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'll see them in the hall
For nuts and apples scrambling.

Hark! how the roofs with laughter sound!
Anon they'll 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.

Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox

Our honest neighbors come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.
Now kings and queens poor sheep-cotes have,
And mate with

everybody;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men
play at noddy.
Some youths will now a mumming go,
Some others
play at Rowland-ho,
And twenty other gameboys 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 everything
Bear witness we are merry.
_George Wither._
CHRISTMAS EVE CUSTOMS.
I.
Come, guard this night the Christmas-pie,
That the thief, though ne'er
so sly,
With his flesh-hooks, don't come nigh
To catch it,
From him, who alone sits there,
Having his eyes still in his ear,
And
a deal of nightly fear
To watch it!
II.
Wash your hands, or else the fire
Will not teend[D] to your desire;

Unwashed hands, ye maidens, know,
Dead the fire, though ye blow.
_Robert Herrick._
FOOTNOTE:

[D] Burn.
MERRY SOULS.
O you merry, merry Souls,
Christmas is a-coming,
We shall have
flowing bowls,
Dancing, piping, drumming.
Delicate minced pies
To feast every virgin,
Capon and goose
likewise,
Brawn and a dish of sturgeon.
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
Jigging short
and tall,
Kate, Dick, Ralph, and Molly.
Then to the hop we'll go
Where we'll jig and caper;
Maidens
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.
_Round About Our Coal Fire._
[Illustration The Baron's Hall]
CHRISTMAS IN THE OLDEN TIME.
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 bay and rosemary.
Well can the
green-garbed ranger tell
How, when, and where the monster fell;

What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.

The wassail round, in good brown bowls,
Garnished with ribbons
blithely trowls.
There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by

Plum-porridge stood and Christmas-pie;
Nor failed old Scotland