_By_ Sir Walter Scott
Heap on more wood![356-1]--the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Each age has deem'd the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer:[356-2]
And well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had roll'd,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all his hospitable train.[356-3]
Domestic and religious rite[356-4]
Gave honor to the holy night;
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;[356-5]
On Christmas Eve the mass[356-6] was sung:
That only night in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.[356-7]
The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen;[356-8]
The hall was dress'd with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
To gather in the mistletoe.[357-9]
Then open'd wide the baron's hall
To vassal,[357-10] tenant,[357-11] serf,[357-12] and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,[357-13]
And ceremony doff'd his pride.[357-14]
The heir, with roses in his shoes,[357-15]
That night might village partner choose;[357-16]
The lord, underogating,[357-17] share
The vulgar game of "post and pair."[357-18]
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.[357-19]
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.[358-20]
Then was brought in the lusty brawn,[358-21]
By old blue-coated serving-man;
Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary.[358-22]
Well can the green-garb'd ranger[358-23] tell,
How, when, and where, the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.[358-24]
The wassail[358-25] round, in good brown bowls,
Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls.[358-26]
There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;[358-27]
Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce,
At such high tide, her savory goose.
Then came the merry maskers 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;[359-28]
White shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made;--[359-29]
But, O! what maskers, richly dight,
Can boast of bosoms, half so light![359-30]
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.
[Illustration]