Chapter IV

Now these were Jews as Jews must be
(_The bells ring merry and the bells ring free_).
But Christian men in a band are we
(Carillon, Carilla).

Empty we go, and ill-bedight,
Singing Noël on a winter’s night.
Give us to sup by the warm firelight,
And the small child Jesus smile on you.
HILAIRE BELLOC

85. A CHRISTMAS CAROL

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world’s desire.)

The Christ-child stood at Mary’s knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at him,
And all the stars looked down.
G. K. CHESTERTON

86. THE CREATURES’ NOWEL

Where Mary keeps her court
With the humble and the high,
The little dog has sport
For he is also by.

The creatures of the earth
They have great joy and mirth
On the night of the Great Birth.

The hedgehog and the hare
Are of that Birth aware,
Their timid footsteps go,
Quick, furtive, over the snow,

They come thro’ the cold
The young Child to behold,
In the stable bare.

They have no fear there,
No hurt and no annoy,
But great bliss and joy
With the Baby Boy,
In that safe stable’s shade
With none to make afraid,
To kill or to destroy.

The lamb in his white fleece
Plays with the wolf in peace,
The leopard lies down with the kid,
The ox and the ass they bid
The lion to share their straw;
All creatures tame or wild
Are there with the Little Child;
The ox says ‘moo’ and the ass ‘hee-haw’.
R. L. GALES

87. THE HEAVENLY NOEL

Oh! what great thing is done to-night,
Or what good news has sped?
What ails the blessèd Saints in heaven,
They cannot rest in bed?
But up and down so ceaselessly
They go in joy and dread.

The gate-house all is lighted up,
Wherein Saint Peter dwells;
Saint James looks out of his great house,
All made of oyster shells;
In his good hostel by the flood
Saint Julian rings the bells.

Saint Catherine wears her silver shoes
And pearl-besprinkled gown;
Saint Barbara from her high, high tower
Upon the earth looks down;
Saint Christopher bends wondering eyes
On David’s distant town.

The Angels’ chanting sounds afar
An ancient waterfall;
They do not listen to their strain,
Nor answer to their call;
Their thoughts are on the little earth,
Not in the heavenly hall.

For there they see a lovelier thing
That is beyond the sky;
They see the little Lord of Heaven
Upon His hard bed lie;
Their hearts are filled with wonder for
The Change of the Most High.
R. L. GALES

88. CAROL

The Ox said to the Ass, said he, all on a Christmas night:
‘Do you hear the pipe of the shepherds a-whistling over the hill?
That is the angels’ music they play for their delight,
“Glory to God in the highest and peace upon earth, goodwill”....
Nowell, nowell, my masters, God lieth low in stall,
And the poor labouring Ox was here before you all.’

The Ass said to the Ox, said he, all on a Christmas day:
‘Do you hear the golden bridles come clinking out of the east?
Those are the three wise Mages that ride from far away
To Bethlehem in Jewry to have their lore increased....
Nowell, nowell, my masters, God lieth low in stall,
And the poor, foolish Ass was here before you all.’
DOROTHY L. SAYERS

89. CHRISTMAS CAROL

Oh, brother Juniper, come out and play:
Men should be gay on this Holy-Day.

Lo, brother Sun laughing there in the sky,
All so merrily, clear and high.

Blithe and merry are men and beasts all
In field and stall, in church and in hall.

Oh, little brother, let the fat men sneer,
We have good cheer this day o’ the year.

Oh, brother Juniper, leave ’em their scorn:
Christ is born to us this bright morn.
J. D. C. PELLOW

90. THE OXEN

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
‘Now they are all on their knees,’
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If some one said on Christmas Eve,
‘Come; see the oxen kneel

‘In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,’
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.
THOMAS HARDY

91. HOW FAR IS IT TO BETHLEHEM?

How far is it to Bethlehem?
Not very far.
Shall we find the stable-room
Lit by a star?

Can we see the little Child,
Is he within?
If we lift the wooden latch
May we go in?

May we stroke the creatures there,
Ox, ass, or sheep?
May we peep like them and see
Jesus asleep?

If we touch his tiny hand
Will he awake?
Will he know we’ve come so far
Just for his sake?

Great kings have precious gifts,
And we have nought,
Little smiles and little tears
Are all we brought.

For all weary children
Mary must weep.
Here, on his bed of straw
Sleep, children, sleep.

God in his mother’s arms,
Babes in the byre,
Sleep, as they sleep who find
Their heart’s desire.
FRANCES CHESTERTON

92. EPIPHANY

With a long train of camels following them,
Laden with myrrh and frankincense and gold,
Balthasar, Gaspar, Melchior the old,
Draw near a stable door in Bethlehem,
And, bending down, each king his diadem
Lays at the feet of Him, whom they behold
Wrapped round in swaddling clothes against the cold:
The Babe that is a prince of Jesse’s stem.

And the mild Mother sees with wondering eyes
The strange, bright gems on their uplifted hands,
Their jewelled swords, and raiment of rich fur.
And, drawing near beneath the starlit skies,
A train of camels bringing from strange lands
Tribute of gold and frankincense and myrrh.
FRANCIS KEPPEL

POEMS ON CHRISTMAS MERRY-MAKING

93. NOWELL, NOWELL, NOWELL, NOWELL

_Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, Nowell._
‘Who is there that singeth so _nowell, nowell, nowell_?’

‘I am here, Sir Christmas.’
‘Welcome, my lord Sir Christmas.
Welcome to us both more and less,
Come near.’ _Nowell._

‘Dieu vous garde, beau sire. Tidings I you bring;
A maid hath born a Child full ying[34]
The which causeth for to sing
_Nowell_.

‘Christ is now born of a pure maid;
In an ox-stall he is laid:
Wherefore sing we all at a brayde[35]
_Nowell_.

‘Beuvez bien par tutte la company,
Make good cheer and be right merry;
And sing with us now right joyfully,
_Nowell_.’

[34] Young.

[35] At once.

94. MAN, BE JOYFUL.

_Man, be joyful and mirth thou make,_
_For Christ is made man for thy sake._

Man, be merry, I thee rede,
But be ware what mirths thou make:
Christ is clothèd in thy weed
And He is made man for thy sake.

He came from His Father’s seat,
Into this world to be thy make;
Man, be ware how thou Him treat,
For He is made man for thy sake.

Look thou mercy ever cry,
Now and alway, rathe and late,
And He will set thee wonder high,
For He is made man for thy sake.

95. MAKE WE MERRY

_Make we merry, both more and less_
_For now is the time of Christëmas!_

Let no man come into this hall,
Groom, page, nor yet marshall,
But that some sport he bring withal!
_For now is the time of Christëmas!_

If that he say he cannot sing,
Some other sport then let him bring,
That it may please at this feasting.
_For now is the time of Christëmas!_

If he say he can nought do,
Then for my love ask him no mo,
But to the stocks then let him go!
_For now is the time of Christëmas!_

96. HOLLY AND IVY

Holly and Ivy made a great party,
Who should have the mastery
In landës where they go.

Then spake Holly, ‘I am free and jolly.
I will have the mastery
In landës where we go.’

Then spake Ivy, ‘I am loud and proud,
And I will have the mastery,
In landës where we go.’

Then spake Holly, and set him down on his knee,
‘I pray thee, gentle Ivy,
Say me no villainy,
In landës where we go.’

97. ALLELUIA, ALLELUIA

_Alleluia, Alleluia,_
_Alleluia, now sing we._

Here comes holly, that is so gent,
To please all men is his intent.
_Alleluia._

But lord and lady of this hall,
Who so ever against holly call,
_Alleluia._

Who so ever against holly do cry,
In a lepe[36] shall he hang full high.
_Alleluia._

Who so ever against holly do sing,
He may weep and handës wring.
_Alleluia._

[36] Basket.

98. IVY CHIEF OF TREES IT IS

_Ivy chief of trees it is,_
_Veni coronaberis._

The most worthy she is in town;
He that saith other, doth amiss:
And worthy to bear the crown;
_Veni coronaberis_.

Ivy is soft and meek of speech,
Against all bale she is bliss;
Well is he that may her reach;
_Veni coronaberis_.

Ivy is green, with colour bright,
Of all trees best she is;
And that I prove well now by right.
_Veni coronaberis._

Ivy beareth berries black;
God grant us all his bliss!
For there shall we nothing lack.
_Veni coronaberis._

99. NAY, IVY, NAY

Nay, ivy, nay,
It shall not be, i-wis;[37]
Let holly have the mastery,
As the manner is.

Holly stands in the hall,
Fair to behold;
Ivy stands without the door,
She is full sore a-cold.
Nay, ivy, nay, &c.

Holly and his merry men,
They dancen and they sing;
Ivy and her maidens
They weepen and they wring.
Nay, ivy, nay, &c.

Ivy hath a kybe,[38]
She caught it with the cold;
So mot they all have
That with ivy hold.
Nay, ivy, nay, &c.

Holly hath berries
As red as any rose,
The foster[39] {and} the hunter
Keep them from the does.
Nay, ivy, nay, &c.

Ivy hath berries
As black as any sloe;
There come the owl
And eat them as she go.
Nay, ivy, nay, &c.

Holly hath birdës,
A full fair flock,
The nightingale, the popinjay,
The gentle laverock.
Nay, ivy, nay, &c.

Good ivy,
What birdës hast thou?
None but the howlet
That cries ‘how, how.’

Nay, ivy, nay,
It shall not be, i-wis;
Let holly have the mastery,
As the manner is.

[37] Certainly.

[38] Chilblain.

[39] Forester.

100. HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY

_Hey, hey, hey, hey,_
_The boarës head is armed gay._

The boarës head in hand I bring
With garland gay in portering,
I pray you all with me to sing,
_With hey, &c._

Lordës, knightës, and squïers,
Parsons, priestës, and vicars,
The boarës head is the first mess,
_With hey, &c._

The boarës head, as I you say,
He takes his leave and goeth his way
Anon after the twelfth day,
_With hey, &c._

101. CAPUT APRI DEFERO

_Caput apri defero,_
_Reddens laudes Domino._

The boar’s head in hand bring I,
With garlands gay and rosemary;
I pray you all sing merrily,
_Qui estis in convivio._

The boar’s head, I understand,
Is the chief service in this land;
Look, wherever it be fand,
_Servite cum cantico._

Be glad, lords, both more and less,
For this hath ordained our steward,
To cheer you all this Christmas,
The boar’s head with mustard.

102. NOWEL, NOWEL, NOWEL, NOWEL

_Nowel, nowel, nowel, nowel,_
_Tidings good I think to tell._

The boarës head that we bring here
Betokeneth a prince withouten peer
Is born this day to buy us dear.
_Nowel._

A boar is a sovereign beast
And acceptable in every feast:
So mote this Lord be to most and least.
_Nowel._

This boarës head we bring with song
In worship of Him that thus sprung
Of a virgin, to redress all wrong.
_Nowel._

103. PROFACE, WELCOME, WELCOME

Proface,[40] welcome, welcome, proface,
This time is born a child of grace,
That for us mankind hath take.
Proface.

A king’s son and an emperor
Is comen out of a maiden’s tower,
With us to dwell with great honour.
Proface.

This holy time of Christës-mass,
All sorrow and sin we should release,
And cast away all heaviness.
Proface.

The good lord of this place entere
Saith welcome to all that now appear
Unto such fare as ye find here.
Proface.

Welcome be this New Year,
And look ye all be of good cheer;
Our Lord God be at our dinnere.
Proface.

[40] i. e. _proficiat_, may it do you good.

104. CHRISTMAS MERRY-MAKING

So now is come our joyful’st 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.

Now all our neighbours’ chimneys smoke,
And Christmas logs are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let 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 labour;
Our lasses have provided them
A bagpipe 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,
For crowdy-mutton’s[41] come 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 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;
Sour 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:
And you’ll see them in the hall
For nuts and apples scrambling.
Hark, how the roofs with laughter sound!
And 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 wildmare[42] in is bringing.
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 everybody:
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play at noddy.[43]
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?
Ho, 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

[41] Fiddlers.

[42]? A see-saw.

[43] Cribbage.

105. CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS

Come, bring with a noise,
My merry, merry boys,
The Christmas log to the firing;
While my good dame she
Bids ye all be free,
And drink to your hearts’ desiring.

With the last year’s brand
Light the new block, and
For good success in his spending,
On your psaltries play,
That sweet luck may
Come while the log is a-teending.[44]

Drink now the strong beer,
Cut the white loaf here;
The while the meat is a-shredding;
For the rare mince-pie,
And the plums stand by
To fill the paste that’s a-kneading.

CHRISTMAS EVE: ANOTHER CEREMONY
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 all alone sits there,
Having his eyes still in his ear
And a deal of nightly fear,
To watch it.

ANOTHER TO THE MAIDS
Wash your hands, or else the fire
Will not teend to your desire;
Unwash’d hands, ye maidens, know,
Dead the fire though ye blow.

ANOTHER
Wassail the trees, that they may bear
You many a plum and many a pear;
For more or less fruits they will bring,
As you do give them wassailing.
ROBERT HERRICK

[44] Kindling.

106. THE WASSAIL

Give way, give way, ye gates, and win
An easy blessing to your bin
And basket, by our entering in.

May both with manchet[45] stand replete;
Your larders too so hung with meat,
That though a thousand, thousand eat,

Yet, ere twelve moons shall whirl about
Their silv’ry spheres, there’s none may doubt
But more’s sent in than was serv’d out.

Next may your dairies prosper so
As that your pans no ebb may know;
But if they do, the more to flow;

Like to a solemn sober stream
Bank’d all with lilies, and the cream
Of sweetest cowslips filling them.

Then, may your plants be prest with fruit,
Nor bee or hive you have be mute;
But sweetly sounding like a lute.

Next may your duck and teeming hen
Both to the cock’s tread say Amen;
And for their two eggs render ten.

Last may your harrows, shears, and ploughs,
Your stacks, your stocks, your sweetest mows,
All prosper by your virgin vows.
ROBERT HERRICK

[45] White bread.

107. TWELFTH NIGHT

Now, now the mirth comes
With the cake full of plums,
Where bean’s the king of the sport here;
Besides we must know,
The pea also
Must revel as queen in the court here.

Begin then to choose
This night as ye use,
Who shall for the present delight here;
Be a king by the lot,
And who shall not
Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here.

Which known, let us make
Joy-sops with the cake;
And let not a man then be seen here,
Who unurg’d will not drink,
To the base from the brink,
A health to the king and the queen here.

Next crown the bowl full
With gentle lamb’s wool:
Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,
With store of ale too:
And thus ye must do
To make the wassail a swinger.

Give then to the king
And queen wassailing:
And though with ale ye be whet here,
Yet part ye from hence
As free from offence
As when ye innocent met here.
ROBERT HERRICK

108. TO SIR SIMOND STEWARD

No news of navies burnt at seas;
No noise of late-spawn’d tittyries;[46]
No closet plot, or open vent
That frights men with a parliament:
No new device or late-found trick
To read by th’ stars the kingdom’s sick;
No gin to catch the state, or wring
The free-born nostrils of the king,
We send to you: but here a jolly
Verse crown’d with ivy and with holly,
That tells of winter’s tales and mirth,
That milkmaids make about the hearth,
Or Christmas sports, the wassail bowl,
That tost up, after fox-i-th’-hole;
Of blind-man-buff, and of the care
That young men have to shoe the mare;
Of twelve-tide cakes, of peas and beans,
Wherewith you make those merry scenes,
Whenas ye choose your king and queen
And cry out: ‘Hey, for our town green’;
Of ash-heaps in the which ye use
Husbands and wives by streaks to choose;
Of crackling laurel which foresounds
A plenteous harvest to your grounds:
Of these and such-like things for shift,
We send instead of New Year’s gift.
Read then, and when your faces shine
With buxom meat and cap’ring wine,
Remember us in cups full crown’d,
And let our city-health go round,
Quite through the young maids and the men,
To the ninth number, if not ten;
Until the fired chestnuts leap
For joy to see the fruits ye reap
From the plump chalice and the cup
That tempts till it be tossed up;
Then as ye sit about your embers,
Call not to mind those fled Decembers,
But think on these that are t’ appear
As daughters to the instant year:
Sit crown’d with rosebuds, and carouse
Till Liber Pater twirls the house
About your ears; and lay upon
The year your cares that’s fled and gone.
And let the russet swains the plough
And harrow hang up resting now;
And to the bagpipe all address,
Till sleep takes place of weariness.
And thus, throughout, with Christmas plays
Frolic the full twelve holidays.
ROBERT HERRICK

[46] An early club of Mohocks.

109. SONG

Now winter nights enlarge
The number of their hours;
And clouds their storms discharge
Upon the airy towers.
Let now the chimneys blaze
And cups o’erflow with wine,
Let well-tuned words amaze
With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights
Shall wait on honey love,
While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights,
Sleep’s leaden spells remove.

This time doth well dispense
With lovers’ long discourse,
Much speech hath some defence,
Though beauty no remorse.
All do not all things well;
Some measures comely tread,
Some knotted riddles tell,
Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys,
And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys,
They shorten tedious nights.
THOMAS CAMPION

110. SONG

To shorten winter’s sadness,
See where the nymphs with gladness
Disguisèd all are coming
Right wantonly a-mumming.
Fa la.

Whilst youthful sports are lasting
To feasting turn our fasting;
With revels and with wassails
Make grief and care our vassals.
Fa la.

For youth it well beseemeth
That pleasure he esteemeth;
And sullen age is hated
That mirth would have abated.
Fa la.
UNKNOWN.

111. THE DAMSEL DONN’D HER KIRTLE SHEEN

The damsel donn’d her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dress’d with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
To gather in the mistletoe.
Then open’d wide the baron’s hall
To vassal, tenant, serf and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doff’d 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 hail’d with uncontroll’d 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,
Scrubb’d 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 frown’d on high,
Crested with bay and rosemary.
Well can the green-garb’d 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,
Garnish’d with ribbons, blithely trowls.
There the huge sirloin reek’d; hard by
Plum-porridge stood and Christmas pie;
Nor fail’d old Scotland to produce
At such high-tide her savoury goose.
Then came the merry masquers in
And carols roar’d with blithesome 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 visors made:
But oh! what masquers richly dight
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
’Twas Christmas broach’d the mightiest ale,
’Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man’s heart through half the year.
SIR WALTER SCOTT

112. WINTER WAS NOT UNKIND

Winter was not unkind because uncouth;
His prison’d time made me a closer guest,
And gave thy graciousness a warmer zest,
Biting all else with keen and angry tooth:
And bravelier the triumphant blood of youth
Mantling thy cheek its happy home possest,
And sterner sport by day put strength to test,
And custom’s feast at night gave tongue to truth.

Or say hath flaunting summer a device
To match our midnight revelry, that rang
With steel and flame along the snow-girt ice?
Or when we hark’t to nightingales that sang
On dewy eves in spring, did they entice
To gentler love than winter’s icy fang?
ROBERT BRIDGES

113. BALLADE OF CHRISTMAS GHOSTS

Between the moonlight and the fire
In winter twilights long ago,
What ghosts we raised for your desire,
To make your merry blood run slow!
How old, how grave, how wise we grow!
No Christmas ghost can make us chill,
Save those that troop in mournful row,
The ghosts we all can raise at will!

The beasts can talk in barn and byre
On Christmas Eve, old legends know.
As year by year the years retire,
We men fall silent then I trow,
Such sights hath memory to show,
Such voices from the silence thrill,
Such shapes return with Christmas snow,—
The ghosts we all can raise at will.

Oh, children of the village choir,
Your carols on the midnight throw!
Oh, bright across the mist and mire,
Ye ruddy hearths of Christmas glow!
Beat back the dread, beat down the woe,
Let’s cheerily descend the hill;
Be welcome all, to come or go,
The ghosts we all can raise at will!

Envoy
Friend, sursum corda, soon or slow
We part, like guests who’ve joyed their fill;
Forget them not, nor mourn them so,
The ghosts we all can raise at will,
ANDREW LANG

114. CHRISTMAS EVE

_Basil. Sandy. Brian. Menzies._

_Sandy._
In holly hedges starving birds
Silently mourn the setting year.

_Basil._
Upright like silver-plated swords
The flags stand in the frozen mere.

_Brian._
The mistletoe we still adore
Upon the twisted hawthorn grows.

_Menzies._
In antique gardens hellebore
Puts forth its blushing Christmas rose.

_Sandy._
Shrivelled and purple, cheek by jowl,
The hips and haws hang drearily.

_Basil._
Rolled in a ball the sulky owl
Creeps far into his hollow tree.

_Brian._
In abbeys and cathedrals dim
The birth of Christ is acted o’er;
The kings of Cologne worship Him,
Balthazar, Jasper, Melchior.

_Menzies._
And while our midnight talk is made
Of this and that and now and then,
The old earth-stopper with his spade
And lantern seeks the fox’s den.

_Sandy._
Oh, for a northern blast to blow
These depths of air that cream and curdle!

_Basil._
Now are the halcyon days, you know;
Old Time has leapt another hurdle:
And pauses as he only may
Who knows he never can be caught.

_Brian._
The winter solstice, shortest day
And longest night, was past, I thought.

_Basil._
Oh yes! but fore-and-aft a week
Silent the winds must ever be,
Because the happy halcyons seek
Their nests upon the sea.

_Brian._
The Christmas-time! the lovely things
That last of it! Sweet thoughts and deeds!

_Sandy._
How strong and green old Legend clings
Like ivy round the ruined creeds!

_Menzies._
A fearless, ruthless, wanton band,
Deep in our hearts we guard from scathe,
Of last year’s log a smouldering brand
To light at Yule the fire of faith.

_Brian._
The shepherds in the field at night
Beheld an angel glory-clad,
And shrank away with sore affright.
‘Be not afraid,’ the angel bade.

‘I bring good news to king and clown,
To you here crouching on the sward;
For there is born in David’s town
A Saviour which is Christ the Lord.
‘Behold the Babe is swathed, and laid
Within a manger.’ Straight there stood
Beside the angel all arrayed
A heavenly multitude.

‘Glory to God,’ they sang; ‘and peace,
Good pleasure among men.’

_Sandy._
The wondrous message of release!

_Menzies._
Glory to God again!

_Brian._
Again! God help us to be good!

_Basil._
Hush! hark! without; the waits, the waits!
With brass, and strings, and mellow wood.

_Menzies._
A simple tune can ope heaven’s gates!

_Sandy._
Slowly they play, poor careful souls,
With wistful thoughts of Christmas cheer,
Unwitting how their music rolls
Away the burden of the year.

_Basil._
And with the charm, the homely rune,
Our thoughts like childhood’s thoughts are given,
When all our pulses beat in tune
With all the stars of heaven.

_Menzies._
Oh cease! Oh cease!

_Sandy._
Ay; cease, and bring
The wassail bowl, the cup of grace.

_Brian._
Pour wine, and heat it till it sing,
With cloves, and cardamums and mace.

* * * * *

_Brian._
Hush! hark! the waits far up the street!

_Basil._
A distant, ghostly charm unfolds,
Of magic music wild and sweet,
Anomes and clarigolds.
JOHN DAVIDSON

115. NOW HAVE GOOD DAY!

_Now have good day, now have good day!_
_I am Christmas, and now I go my way!_

Here have I dwelt with more and less
From Hallow-tide till Candlemas!
And now must I from you hence pass,
_Now have good day!_

I take my leave of King and Knight,
And Earl, Baron, and Lady bright;
To wilderness I must me dight.
_Now have good day!_

And at the good Lord of this hall
I take my leave, and of guestës all.
Methinks I hear Lent doth call.
_Now have good day!_

And at every worthy officer,
Marshall, panter, and butler,
I take my leave as for this year.
_Now have good day!_

Another year I trust I shall
Maken merry in this hall!
If rest and peace in England may fall!
_Now have good day!_

But oftentimes I have heard say
That he is loth to part away,
That often biddeth ‘have good day’!
_Now have good day!_

Now fare ye well, all in fere![47]
Now fare ye well for all this year!
Yet for my sake make ye good cheer!
_Now have good day!_
UNKNOWN

[47] Company.

LATIN HYMNS

116. PUER NATUS IN BETHLEHEM

Puer natus in Bethlehem,
Unde gaudet Jerusalem.

Hic jacet in praesepio,
Qui regnat sine termino.

Cognovit bos et asinus
Quod puer erat Dominus.

Reges de Sabâ veniunt,
Aurum, thus, myrrham offerunt.

Intrantes domum invicem
Novum salutant principem.

De matre natus virgine
Sine virili semine;

Sine serpentis vulnere
De nostro venit sanguine;

In carne nobis similis
Peccato sed dissimilis;

Ut redderet nos homines
Deo et sibi similes.

In hoc natali gaudio
Benedicamus Domino:

Laudetur sancta Trinitas,
Deo dicamus gratias.

117. HEU QUID JACES STABULO

Heu quid jaces stabulo
Omnium Creator,
Vagiens cunabulo,
Mundi reparator?
Si rex, ubi purpura,
Vel clientum murmura,
Ubi aula regis?
Hic omnis penuria,
Paupertatis curia,
Forma novae legis.

Istuc amor generis
Me traxit humani,
Quod se noxâ sceleris
Occidit profani.
His meis inopiis
Gratiarum copiis
Te pergo ditare;
Hocce natalitio,
Vero sacrificio
Te volens beare.

O te laudum millibus
Laudo, laudo, laudo;
Tantis mirabilibus
Plaudo, plaudo, plaudo:
Gloria, sit gloria,
Amanti memoria
Domino in altis:
Cui testimonia
Dantur et praeconia
Coelicis a psaltis.
JOHN MAUBURN

118. ADESTE FIDELES

Adeste fideles,
Laeti triumphantes,
Venite, venite in Bethlehem;
Natum videte,
Regem angelorum,
Venite, adoremus Dominum.

Deum de Deo,
Lumen de Lumine,
Gestant puellae viscera,
Deum verum,
Genitum non factum;
Venite, adoremus Dominum.

En, grege relicto
Humiles ad cunas
Vocati pastores approperant;
Et nos ovanti
Gradu festinemus,
Venite, adoremus Dominum,

Stella duce, Magi
Christum adorantes,
Aurum, thus, et myrrham dant munera;
Jesu infanti
Corda praebeamus:
Venite, adoremus Dominum.

Aeterni Parentis
Splendorem aeternum
Velatum sub carne videbimus,
Deum infantem
Pannis involutum;
Venite, adoremus Dominum.

Pro nobis egenum
Et faeno cubantem
Piis foveamus amplexibus;
Sic nos amantem
Quis non redamaret?
Venite, adoremus Dominum.

Cantet nunc hymnos.
Chorus angelorum,
Cantet nunc aula caelestium:—
Gloria
In excelsis Deo:
Venite, adoremus Dominum.

Ergo qui natus
Die hodierna,
Jesu, tibi sit gloria
Patris aeterni
Verbum caro factum!
Venite, adoremus Dominum.

119. CORDE NATUS EX PARENTIS

Corde natus ex Parentis
Ante mundi exordium,
Alpha et oo cognominatus,
Ipse fons et clausula
Omnium quae sunt, fuerunt,
Quaeque post futura sunt
Saeculorum saeculis.

Ecce quem vates vetustis
Concinebant saeculis,
Quem prophetarum fideles
Paginae spoponderant,
Emicat promissus olim,
Cunctaque collaudent Deum
Saeculorum saeculis.

O beatus ortus ille,
Virgo cum puerpera
Edidit nostram salutem
Feta sancto Spiritu,
Et puer Redemptor orbis
Os sacratum protulit
Saeculorum saeculis.

Psallat altitudo caeli,
Psallant omnes angeli,
Quicquid est virtutis usquam
Psallat in laudem Dei;
Nulla linguarum silescat,
Vox et omnis personet
Saeculorum saeculis.

Te senes, et te juventus,
Parvulorum te cohors,
Turba matrum, virginumque
Simplices puellulae,
Voce concordes pudicis
Perstrepant concentibus
Saeculorum saeculis.

Tibi, Christe, sit cum Patre
Agioque Spiritu,
Hymnus, melos, laus perennis,
Gratiarum actio,
Honor, virtus, et victoria,
Regnum, aeternaliter
Saeculorum saeculis.
PRUDENTIUS

120. AVE JESU, DEUS MAGNE

Ave Jesu, Deus magne
Ave Puer, mitis agne,
Ave Deus, homo nate
In praesepi reclinate!
O potestas, O egestas.
O majestas Domini!
O majestas, quidnon praestas homini?

Ut me pauperem ditares,
Ut me perditum salvares,
Jaces pannis involutus,
Omni ope destitutus.
O potestas, &c.

Inter bruta quam abjectus
Vagis, patris O dilectus!
Judex summe, verus Deus,
Propter me fis homo reus!
O potestas, &c.

O mi Jesu, cor devotum
Post te trahe, sume totum,
Igne tuo sancto ure,
Ah ah penitus combure.
O potestas, &c.

Procul vanas hinc amores
Procul malos arce mores,
Tuis meos aptos finge,
Aeterno me nexu stringe
O potestas, &c.

121. NOWELL, NOWELL, NOWELL

_Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell,_
_Missus est ad virginem angelus Gabriel._

Angelum misit suum Deus omnipotens,
Ut unicum per filium ejus salvetur gens.
Virgo ave, clamat ille, O Maria clemens,
Concipies et paries, virgo semper manens.

Virgo clam tremescit, nam mira valde audit,
Eam cui est ille missus confortavit.
Altissimi Patris tui virtus obumbravit,
Cui per flamen sacrum gramen in te seminavit.

Virgo clemens semper tremens ad verba angeli,
Cui flamen consolamen dat responsum illi,
Miti voce dicens, Ecce ancilla Domini,
Et secundum tuum verbum, ita fiat mihi.

Virgo Deum genuit verbum, quem alit cum cura,
Mirus Pater, mira Mater, mira Genitura;
Parit virgo solo verbo contra carnis jura,
Perseverante post et ante virgine pura.

Nobis natus, nobis datus, quem virgo lactavit,
Atque gregi, sic sub lege cunctaque creavit,
Miti corde nos a sorde moriendo lavit;
Miserere plebi tuae, Jhesu fili Davit.

Virgo pin, O Maria, pura ut lilia
Sponsa Dei, soror ei, mater et filia,
Tu Hunc ores, viatores ut fugiant vilia,
Et nos trahant huc quo gaudent sanctorum milia.

O Pater qui genuisti Hunc ab initio,
Et dedisti gentes Isti, pregaudens sacrificio,
Hic cum venit quos redemit sanguinis precio
Judicare, fac vitare nos a supplicio.

INDEX OF AUTHORS

Beaumont, Sir John, 31.
Beaumont, Joseph, 46, 47.
Belloc, Hilaire, 84.
Bolton, Edmund, 30.
Bridges, Robert, 83, 112.
Byrom, John, 59.

Campion, Thomas, 109.
Chesterton, Frances, 91.
Chesterton, G. K., 85.
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 62-4.
Crashaw, Richard, 41-3.

Davidson, John, 114.
Doddridge, Philip, 60.
Domett, Alfred, 68.
Donne, John, 27.
Drummond, William, 32, 33.
Dunbar, William, 22.

Fletcher, Giles, 35, 36.

Gales, R. L., 86, 87.

Hall, Joseph, 28.
Hardy, Thomas, 90.
Hawker, R. S., 75, 76.
Heber, Reginald, 65.
Herbert, George, 39.
Herrick, Robert, 37, 38, 105-8.
Hopkins, Gerard, 78.
Horne, Herbert P., 80.

Image, Selwyn, 79.

J., M., 48.
Jonson, Ben, 29.

Keppel, Francis, 92.
Kingsley, Charles, 70.

Lang, Andrew, 113.

Mauburn, John, 117.
Meynell, Alice, 82.
Milton, John, 40.
Morris, William, 72-4.

Neale, J. M., 69.

Patmore, Coventry, 77.
Pellow, J. D. C., 89.
Prudentius, 119.

Rossetti, Christina, 71.

Sayers, Dorothy L., 88.
Scott, Sir Walter, 111.
Sherburne, Sir Edward, 51.
Southwell, Robert, 23-6.
Stevenson, R. L., 81.

Tate, Nahum, 56.
Taylor, Jeremy, 44, 45.
Tennyson, Alfred, 67.

Unknown, 1-21, 52-5, 93-103, 110,
115, 116, 118, 120, 121.

Vaughan, Henry, 49, 50.
Vere, Aubrey de, 66.

Watts, Isaac, 57, 58.
Wesley, Charles, 61.
Wither, George, 34, 104.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

NO.
Adeste fideles, 118
A frosty Christmas Eve, 83
All after pleasures as I rid one day, 39
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, now sing we, 97
All this time this song is best, 13
And art Thou come, blest Babe, and come to me? 55
A shape, like folded light, embodied air, 75
As I in hoary winter’s night stood shivering in the snow, 23
As Joseph was a-walking, 3
As on the night before this happy morn, 35
Ave Jesu, Deus magne, 120
Ave maris stella, 16
Awake, glad heart, get up and sing! 50
Awake, my soul, and come away, 45

Behold a silly tender Babe, 24
Between the moonlight and the fire, 113
Be we merry in this feast, 11
Bright Babe! whose awful beauties make, 43
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! 65
But art Thou come, dear Saviour? hath Thy love, 52

Can I not sing but Hoy! 9
Caput apri defero, 101
Christians, awake, salute the happy morn, 59
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock, 90
Christ was born on Christmas day, 69
Come, bring with a noise, 105
Come, guard this night the Christmas pie, 105
Come to your heaven, you heavenly quires! 25
Come we shepherds whose blest sight, 41
Consider, O my soul, what morn is this! 79
Corde natus ex Parentis, 119

Dormi, Jesu! mater ridet, 64

Eya, Jesus hodie, 15

Fair eastern star, that art ordained to run, 31

Given, not lent, 82
Give way, give way, ye gates, and win, 106
God rest you merry, gentlemen, 19

Happy crib, that wert alone, 51
Hark! how all the welkin rings, 61
Hark, the glad sound! the Saviour comes, 60
Heaven’s golden-wingèd herald late he saw, 42
Herdmen hend, Dread ye no thing, 8
Heu quid jaces stabulo, 117
Hey, hey, hey, hey, 100
Holly and Ivy made a great party, 96
How far is it to Bethlehem? 91
Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 58

Immensity, cloistered in thy dear womb, 27
Immortal Babe, who this dear day, 28
In holly hedges starving birds, 114
In numbers, and but these few, 38
In the bleak mid-winter, 71
I saw three ships come sailing in, 21
I sing of a maiden, 2
I sing the birth was born to-night, 29
It chanced upon the merry merry Christmas eve, 70
It is the longest night in all the year, 74
It was the calm and silent night, 68
Ivy chief of trees it is, 98

Let folly praise that fancy loves, 26
Like as the fountain of all light created, 47
Lodged in an inn, 53
Lullay, my liking, my dear son, my sweeting, 6

Make we merry both more and less, 95
Man, be joyful and mirth thou make, 94
Man, be merry as bird on berry, 12
Mater, ora filium, 14

Nay, ivy, nay, 99
Noël, Noël, Noël, Noël, 17
No news of navies burnt at seas, 108
Nowel, nowel, nowel, nowel, Tidings good, 102
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell, Missus est, 121
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, Who is there, 93
Now have good day, now have good day! 115
Now is Christëmas ycome, 4
Now, now the mirth comes, 107
Now winter nights enlarge, 109

Of a rose, a lovely rose, 18
Oh, brother Juniper, come out and play, 89
Oh! what great thing is done to-night, 87
On a winter’s night long time ago, 84
O than the fairest day, thrice fairer night! 33
Outlanders, whence come ye last? 73

Proface, welcome, welcome, proface, 103
Puer natus in Bethlehem, 116

Remember, O thou man, 20
Rorate Coeli desuper! 22
Run, shepherds, run, where Bethlehem blest appears, 32

Saint Stephen was a clerk, 7
Say, did his Sisters wonder what could Joseph see, 77
She gave with joy her virgin breast, 63
Shepherds, rejoice, lift up your eyes, 57
So now is come our joyful’st feast, 104
Sweet baby, sleep! What ails my dear? 34
Sweet, harmless live{r}s! on whose holy leisure, 49
Sweet music, sweeter far, 30

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s lap, 85
The damsel donn’d her kirtle sheen, 111
The Ox said to the Ass, said he, all on a Christmas night, 88
The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand, 81
The shepherds went their hasty way, 62
The time draws near the birth of Christ, 67
They leave the land of gems and gold, 66
This endris night, 5
This is the month, and this the happy morn, 40
To Bethlem did they go, the shepherds three, 72
To shorten winter’s sadness, 110

Waes-hael for knight and dame! 76
Wake, what unusual light doth greet, 80
Wash your hands, or else the fire, 105
Wassail the trees, that they may bear, 105
Welcome Yule, thou merry man, 1
What sweeter music can we bring, 37
When Christ was born of Mary free, 10
Where is this blessed Babe, 44
Where Mary keeps her court, 86
While shepherds watch’d their flocks by night, 56
Who can forget—never to be forgot, 36
Why does the frowning winter smile, 48
Wild air, world-mothering air, 78
Winter was not unkind because uncouth, 112
With a long train of camels following them, 92
Wonder’s birthday, 46

Yet if his majesty our sovereign Lord, 54