Then comes the day that calls to mind the cruel Herod's stri_In The Yule-Log Glow—Book 3 Christmas Poems from 'round the World

Who seeking Christ to kill, the King of everlasting life,

Destroyèd all the infants young, a beast unmerciless,

And put to death all such as were of two years age or less.

To them the sinful wretches cry and earnestly do pray

To get them pardon for their faults, and wipe their sins away.

The parents, when this day appears, do beat their children all

Though nothing they deserve, and servants all to beating fall,

And monks do whip each other well, or else their Prior great,

Or Abbot mad, doth take in hand their breeches all to beat

In worship of these Innocents, or rather, as we see,

In honor of the curséd king that did this cruelty.

The next to this is New-Year's Day, whereon to every friend

They costly presents in do bring and New-Year's gifts do send.

These gifts the husband gives his wife, and father eke the child,

And master on his men bestows the like, with favor mild,

And good beginning of the year they wish and wish again,

According to the ancient guise of heathen people vain.

These eight days no man doth require his debts of any man,

Their tables do they furnish out with all the meat they can:

With marchpanes, tarts, and custards great they drink with staring eyes,

They rout and revel, feed and feast as merry all as pies,

As if they should at the entrance of this New Year have to die,

Yet would they have their bellies full and ancient friends ally.

The Wise Men's day here followeth, who out from Persia far,

Brought gifts and presents unto Christ, conducted by a star.

The Papists do believe that these were kings, and so them call,

And do affirm that of the same there were but three in all.

Here sundry friends together come, and meet in company,

And make a king amongst themselves by voice or destiny;

Who, after princely guise, appoints his officers alway,

Then unto feasting do they go, and long time after play:

Upon their boards, in order thick, their dainty dishes stand,

Till that their purses empty be and creditors at hand.

Their children herein follow them, and choosing princes here,

With pomp and great solemnity, they meet and make good cheer

With money either got by stealth, or of their parents eft,

That so they may be trained to know both riot here and theft.

Then, also, every householder, to his ability,

Doth make a mighty cake that may suffice his company:

Herein a penny doth he put, before it comes to fire,

This he divides according as his household doth require;

And every piece distributeth, as round about they stand,

Which in their names unto the poor is given out of hand.

But whoso chanceth on the piece wherein the money lies

Is counted king amongst them all, and is with shouts and cries

Exalted to the heavens up, who, taking chalk in hand,

Doth make a cross on every beam and rafters as they stand:

Great force and power have these against all injuries and harms,

Of cursed devils, sprites and bugs, of conjurings and charms,

So much this king can do, so much the crosses bring to pass,

Made by some servant, maid or child, or by some foolish ass!

Twice six nights then from Christmas they do count with diligence,

Wherein each master in his house doth burn up frankincense:

And on the table sets a loaf, when night approacheth near,

Before the coals and frankincense to be perfumed there:

First bowing down his head he stands, and nose, and ears, and eyes

He smokes, and with his mouth receives the fume that doth arise;

Whom followeth straight his wife, and doth the same full solemnly,

And of their children every one, and all their family:

Which doth preserve, they say, their teeth, and nose, and eyes, and ear

From every kind of malady and sickness all the year.

When every one receivéd hath this odor great and small,

Then one takes up the pan with coals, and frankincense and all.

Another takes the loaf, whom all the rest do follow here,

And round about the house they go, with torch or taper clear,

That neither bread nor meat do want; nor witch with dreadful charm

Have power to hurt their children, or to do their cattle harm.

There are that three nights only do perform this foolish gear,

To this intent, and think themselves in safety all the year.

To Christ dare none commit himself. And in these days beside

They judge what weather all the year shall happen and betide:

Ascribing to each day a month, and at this present time

The youth in every place do flock, and all apparelled fine,

With pipers through the streets they run, and sing at every door

In commendation of the man, rewarded well therefore,

Which on themselves they do bestow, or on the church as though

The people were not plagued with rogues and begging friars enow.

There cities are where boys and girls together still do run

About the streets with like as soon as night begins to come,

And bring abroad their wassail-bowls, who well rewarded be

With cakes, and cheese, and great good cheer, and money plenteously.

_From the German of Thos. Kirchmaier, A.D. 1553._

FOOTNOTE:

[F] White bread.

A PLEA FOR A PRESENT.

Father John Burges,

Necessity urges

My woeful cry

To Sir Robert Pie:

And that he will venture

To send my debenture.

Tell him his Ben

Knew the time when

He loved the Muses;

Though now he refuses

To take apprehension

Of a year's pension,

And more is behind;

Put him in mind

Christmas is near,

And neither good cheer,

Mirth, fooling, nor wit,

Nor any least fit

Of gambol or sport

Will come to the court

If there be no money,

No plover or cony

Will come to the table,

Or wine to enable

The muse, or the poet,

The parish will know it

Nor any quick warming-pan help him to bed;

If the 'Chequer be empty, so will be his head.

_Ben Jonson._

A NEW-YEAR'S GIFT SENT TO SIR SIMEON STEWARD.

No news of navies burnt at sea,

No noise of late-spawned Tityries,

No closet plot or open vent

That frights men with a Parliament:

No new device or late-found trick,

To read by the 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 crowned with ivy and with holly;

That tells of winter's tales and mirth

That milkmaids make about the hearth,

Of Christmas sports, the wassail-bowl,

That's tost up after fox-i'-th'-hole;

Of Blindman-buff, and of the care

That young men have to shoe the mare;

Of Twelve-tide cake, of peas and beans,

Wherewith ye make those merry scenes,

When as 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-crowned,

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 tosséd up.

Then, as ye sit about your embers,

Call not to mind those fled Decembers;

But think on these that are to appear

As daughters to the instant year;

Sit crowned with rose-buds, 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 holydays.

_Robert Herrick._

THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

Let others look for pearl and gold

Tissues, or tabbies manifold;

One only lock of that sweet hay

Whereon the Blessed Baby lay,

Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall be

The richest New-Year's gift to me.

_Robert Herrick._

AN INVITATION TO THE REVEL.

Come follow, follow me,

Those that good fellows be,

Into the buttery

Our manhood for to try;

The master keeps a bounteous house,

And gives leave freely to carouse.

Then wherefore should we fear,

Seeing here is store of cheer?

It shows but cowardice

At this time to be nice.

Then boldly draw your blades and fight,

For we shall have a merry night.

When we have done this fray,

Then we will go to play

At cards or else at dice,

And be rich in a trice;

Then let the knaves go round apace,

I hope each time to have an ace.

Come, maids, let's want no beer

After our Christmas cheer,

And I will duly crave

Good husbands you may have,

And that you may good houses keep,

When we may drink carouses deep.

And when that's spent the day

We'll Christmas gambols play,

At hot cockles beside

And then go to all-hide,

With many other pretty toys,

Men, women, youths, maids, girls, and boys.

Come, let's dance round the hall,

And let's for liquor call;

Put apples in the fire,

Sweet maids, I you desire;

And let a bowl be spiced well

Of happy stuff that doth excel.

Twelve days we now have spent

In mirth and merriment,

And daintily did fare,

For which we took no care:

But now I sadly call to mind

What days of sorrow are behind.

We must leave off to play,

To-morrow's working-day;

According to each calling

Each man must now be falling,

And ply his business all the year

Next Christmas for to make good cheer.

Now of my master kind

Good welcome I did find,

And of my loving mistress

This merry time of Christmas;

For which to them great thanks I give,

God grant they long together live.

A CHRISTMAS DITTY.

Sweep the ingle, froth the beer,

Tiptoe on till chanticleer,

Loose the laugh, dry the tear,--

Crack the drums

When Christmas comes!

AT THE END OF THE FEAST.

Mark well my heavy, doleful tale,

For Twelfth-day now is come,

And now I must no longer sing,

And say no words but mum;

For I perforce must take my leave

Of all my dainty cheer,

Plum-porridge, roast-beef, and minced-pies,

My strong ale and my beer.

Kind-hearted Christmas, now adieu,

For I with thee must part,

And for to take my leave of thee

Doth grieve me at the heart;

Thou wert an ancient housekeeper,

And mirth with meat didst keep,

But thou art going out of town,

Which makes me for to weep.

God knoweth whether I again

Thy merry face shall see,

Which to good fellows and the poor

That was so frank and free.

Thou lovedst pastime with thy heart,

And eke good company;

Pray hold me up for fear I swoon,

For I am like to die.

Come, butler, fill a brimmer up

To cheer my fainting heart,

That to old Christmas I may drink

Before he doth depart;

And let each one that's in this room

With me likewise condole,

And for to cheer their spirits sad

Let each one drink a bowl.

And when the same it hath gone round

Then fall unto your cheer,

For you do know that Christmas time

It comes but once a year.

But this good draught which I have drunk

Hath comforted my heart,

For I was very fearful that

My stomach would depart.

Thanks to my master and my dame

That doth such cheer afford;

God bless them, that each Christmas they

May furnish thus their board.

My stomach having come to me,

I mean to have a bout,

Intending to eat most heartily;

Good friends, I do not flout.

_New Christmas Carols, A.D. 1642._

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, KING AND QUEEN.

Now, now the mirth comes

With the cake full of plums,

Where bean's the king of the sport here;

Beside, 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 Twelve-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 unurged 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,

And sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,

With store of ale, too;

And this ye must do

To make the wassail a swinger.

Give then to the king

And queen, wassailing,

And though with ale ye be wet here,

Yet part ye from hence

As free from offence

As when ye innocent met here

_Robert Herrick._

CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS EVE.

Down with the rosemary and bays,

Down with the mistletoe;

Instead of holly, now upraise

The greener box for show.

The holly hitherto did sway;

Let box now domineer

Until the dancing Easter day

Or Easter's eve appear.

Then youthful box, which now hath grace

Your houses to renew,

Grown old, surrender must his place

Unto the crispéd yew.

When yew is out, then birch comes in,

And many flowers beside,

Both of a fresh and fragrant kin,

To honor Whitsuntide.

Green rushes then, and sweetest bents,

With cooler oaken boughs,

Come in for comely ornaments,

To readorn the house.

Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold;

New things succeed as former things grow old.

_Robert Herrick._

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 last branch there left behind;

For, look! how many leaves there be

Neglected there, maids, trust to me

So many goblins you shall see.

_Robert Herrick._

THE CEREMONIES 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 teend

The Christmas log next year,

And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend

Can do no mischief there.

_Robert Herrick._

ANOTHER CEREMONY.

End now the white-loaf and the pie,

And let all sports with Christmas die.

_Robert Herrick._

SAINT DISTAFF'S DAY, THE MORROW AFTER TWELFTH DAY.

Partly work and partly play

Ye must on St. Distaff's day;

From the plough soon free your team,

Then come home and fodder them;

If the maids a-spinning go,

Burn the flax and fire the tow;

Scorch their plackets, but beware

That ye singe no maiden-hair;

Bring in pails of water then,

Let the maids bewash the men;

Give St. Distaff all the right,

Then bid Christmas sport good-night,

And next morrow every one

To his own vocation.

_Robert Herrick._

_The Shepherds._

"His place of birth a solemn angel tells

To simple shepherds keeping watch by night."

_Milton._

ON OATEN PIPES.

As I rode out this enderes night,

Of three ioli sheppardes I saw a sight,

And all abowte there fold a star shone bright;

They sang, terli, terlow;

So mereli the sheppardes their pipes can blow.

Doune from heaven, from heaven so hie,

Of angeles ther came a great companie,

With mirthe, and joy, and great solemnitye,

The sange, terly, terlow;

So mereli the sheppardes their pipes can blow.

_Coventry Mysteries._

PIPE-PLAYING.

_Tyrle, Tyrle, so Merrily the Shepherds began to Blow._

About the field they piped full right,

Even about the midst of the night;

Adown from heaven they saw come a light,

_Tyrle, tyrle._

Of angels there came a company

With merry songs and melody,

The shepherds anon gan them espy,

_Tyrle, tyrle._

_Gloria in excelsis_ the angels sung,

And said how peace was present among,

To every man that to the faith would 'long,

_Tyrle, tyrle._

The shepherds hied them to Bethlehem

To see that blessed sun's beam;

And there they found that glorious stream,

_Tyrle, tyrle._

Now pray we to that meek Child,

And to his mother that is so mild,

The which was never defiled,

_Tyrle, tyrle._

That we may come unto his bliss,

Where joy shall never miss;

That we may sing in Paradise,

_Tyrle, tyrle._

I pray you all that be here

For to sing and make good cheer,

In the worship of God this year,

_Tyrle, tyrle._

_Wright's Songs and Carols._

THE FIRST CAROL.

The first Nowell the Angel did say

Was to three poor Shepherds in the fields as they lay;

In fields where they lay keeping their sheep,

In a cold winter's night that was so deep.