HEAP on more wood!—the wind is chill; | |
| But, let it whistle as it will, | |
| We ’ll keep our Christmas merry still. | |
| Each age has deemed the new-born year | |
| The fittest time for festal cheer: | 5 |
| Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane | |
| At Iol more deep the mead did drain; | |
| High on the beach his galleys drew, | |
| And feasted all his pirate crew; | |
| Then in his low and pine-built hall, | 10 |
| Where shields and axes decked the wall, | |
| They gorged upon the half-dressed steer; | |
| Caroused in seas of sable beer; | |
| While round, in brutal jest, were thrown | |
| The half-gnawed rib and marrow-bone; | 15 |
| Or listened all, in grim delight, | |
| While scalds yelled out the joys of fight. | |
| Then forth in frenzy would they hie, | |
| While wildly loose their red locks fly; | |
| And, dancing round the blazing pile, | 20 |
| They make such barbarous mirth the while, | |
| As best might to the mind recall | |
| The boisterous joys of Odin’s hall. | |
| And well our Christian sires of old | |
| Loved when the year its course had rolled | 25 |
| And brought blithe Christmas back again | |
| With all his hospitable train. | |
| Domestic and religious rite | |
| Gave honor to the holy night: | |
| On Christmas eve the bells were rung; | 30 |
| 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; | 35 |
| 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, | 40 |
| And Ceremony doffed her 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.” | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| 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. | 55 |
| 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 | 60 |
| 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, | 65 |
| There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by | |
| Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie; | |
| Nor failed old Scotland to produce, | |
| At such high tide, her savory goose. | |
| Then came the merry maskers in, | 70 |
| And carols roared 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; | 75 |
| White skirts supplied the masquerade, | |
| And smutted cheeks the visors made: | |
| But, O, what masquers richly dight | |
| Can boast of bosoms half so light! | |
| England was merry England, when | 80 |
| 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. | 85 |
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