Carols each Christmas bell.
What are the wraiths of mist
That gather anear the window-pane
Where the winter frost all day has lain?
They are soulless elves, who fain would peer
Within, and laugh at our Christmas cheer:
Ring fleetly, chimes! Swift, swift, my rhymes!
They are made of the mocking mist.
Nöel! Nöel!
Cease, cease, each Christmas bell!
Under the holly bough,
Where the happy children throng and shout,
What shadows seem to flit about?
Is it the mother, then, who died,
Ere the greens were sere last Christmastide?
Hush, falling chimes! Cease, cease, my rhymes!
The guests are gathered now.
EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN
_By permission of Houghton Mifflin Company_
IV
CHRISTMAS CAROLS
[Illustration]
CHRISTMAS CAROLS
"I saw Three Ships"
"Lordings, listen to Our Lay"
The Cherry-Tree Carol
"In Excelsis Gloria"
"God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen"
The Golden Carol
Caput apri refero resonens laudes domino
"Villagers All, this Frosty Tide"
Holly Song
"Before the Paling of the Stars"
The Minstrels played their Christmas Tune
A Carol from the Old French
"From Far Away we come to you"
A Christmas Carol
A Christmas Carol for Children
[Illustration: GEORGE WHARTON EDWARDS]
The First Christmas Carol
Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which
shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of
David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in
swaddling clothes lying in a manger.
_Chorus_
Glory to God in the highest, and on
earth peace, goodwill toward men.
_St. Luke's Gospel_
I saw Three Ships
I saw three ships come sailing in,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
I saw three ships come sailing in,
On Christmas day in the morning.
And what was in those ships all three,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day?
And what was in those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?
The Virgin Mary and Christ were there,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
The Virgin Mary and Christ were there,
On Christmas day in the morning.
Pray, whither sailed those ships all three,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day?
Pray, whither sailed those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?
O they sailed into Bethlehem,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
O they sailed into Bethlehem,
On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the souls on earth shall sing,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
And all the souls on earth shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.
Then let us all rejoice amain,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
Then let us all rejoice amain,
On Christmas day in the morning.
_Old English Carol_
Lordings, listen to Our Lay
Lordings, listen to our lay--
We have come from far away
To seek Christmas;
In this mansion we are told
He his yearly feast doth hold:
'Tis to day!
_May joy come from God above,
To all those who Christmas love._
Lordings, I now tell you true,
Christmas bringeth unto you
Only mirth:
His house he fills with many a dish,
Of bread and meat and also fish,
To grace the day.
_May joy come from God above,
To all those who Christmas love._
Lordings, through our army's band
They say--who spends with open hand
Free and fast,
And oft regales his many friends--
God gives him double what he spends,
To grace the day.
_May joy come from God above,
To all those who Christmas love._
Lordings, wicked men eschew,
In them never shall you view
Aught that's good;
Cowards are the rabble rout,
Kick and beat the grumblers out,
To grace the day.
_May joys come from God above,
To all those who Christmas love._
Lords, by Christmas and the host
Of this mansion hear my toast--
Drink it well--
Each must drain his cup of wine,
And I the first will toss off mine:
Thus I advise,
Here then I bid you all _Wassail_,
Cursed be he who will not say _Drinkhail_.
_Earliest Existing Carol; Thirteenth Century_
The Cherry-Tree Carol
As Joseph was a-walking,
He heard an angel sing,
"This night shall be the birth-time
Of Christ, the heavenly King.
"He neither shall be born
In housen nor in hall,
Nor in the place of paradise,
But in an ox's stall.
"He neither shall be clothèd
In purple nor in pall,
But in the fair white linen
That usen babies all.
"He neither shall be rockèd
In silver nor in gold,
But in a wooden manger
That resteth on the mould."
As Joseph was a-walking,
There did an angel sing,
And Mary's child at midnight
Was born to be our King.
Then be ye glad, good people,
This night of all the year,
And light ye up your candles,
For his star it shineth clear.
_Old English_
In Excelsis Gloria
When Christ was born of Mary free,
In Bethlehem, in that fair citie,
Angels sang there with mirth and glee,
_In Excelsis Gloria!_
Herdsmen beheld these angels bright,
To them appearing with great light,
Who said, "God's Son is born this night,"
_In Excelsis Gloria!_
This King is come to save mankind,
As in Scripture truths we find,
Therefore this song have we in mind,
_In Excelsis Gloria!_
Then, Lord, for thy great grace,
Grant us the bliss to see thy face,
Where we may sing to thy solace,
_In Excelsis Gloria!_
_From the Harleian MSS._
God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen
God rest you merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
Was born upon this day;
To save us all from Satan's power,
When we were gone astray.
_O tidings of comfort and joy,
For Jesus Christ our Saviour
was born on Christmas Day._
In Bethlehem in Jewry
This blessed babe was born,
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn;
The which His mother Mary
Nothing did take in scorn.
_O tidings of comfort and joy_,--
From God, our Heavenly Father,
A blessed Angel came,
And, unto certain shepherds,
Brought tidings of the same;
How, that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by name.
_O tidings of comfort and joy_,--
* * * * *
The Shepherds at those tidings,
Rejoicèd much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding
In tempest, storm, and wind,
And went to Bethlehem straightway,
This blessed Babe to find.
_O tidings of comfort and joy_,--
But when to Bethlehem they came,
Where as this Infant lay,
They found him in a manger
Where oxen feed on hay,
His mother Mary kneeling
Unto the Lord did pray.
_O tidings of comfort and joy_,--
Now to the Lord sing praises
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace,
This holy tide of Christmas
All others doth deface.
_O tidings of comfort and joy,
For Jesus Christ our Saviour
was born on Christmas Day._
_Old English_
The Golden Carol
(Of Melchior, Balthazar, and Gaspar, the Three Kings of Cologne)
We saw the light shine out a-far,
On Christmas in the morning,
And straight we knew Christ's Star it was,
Bright beaming in the morning.
Then did we fall on bended knee,
On Christmas in the morning,
And prais'd the Lord, who'd let us see
His glory at its dawning.
Oh! ever thought be of His Name,
On Christmas in the morning,
Who bore for us both grief and shame,
Afflictions sharpest scorning.
And may we die (when death shall come),
On Christmas in the morning,
And see in heav'n, our glorious home,
The Star of Christmas morning.
_Old English_
Caput apri refero resonens laudes domino
The boar's head in hands I bring,
With garlands gay and birds singing!
I pray you all help me to sing,
_Qui estis in convivio_!
The boar's head I understand,
Is chief service in all this land,
Wheresoever it may be found,
_Servitur cum sinapio_!
The boar's head I dare well say,
Anon after the twelfth day,
He taketh his leave and goeth away!
_Exivit tunc de patria!_
_From a Balliol MS. of about 1540_
Villagers All, this Frosty Tide
Villagers all, this frosty tide,
Let your doors swing open wide,
Though wind may follow, and snow beside,
Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
_Joy shall be yours in the morning_!
Here we stand in the cold and the sleet,
Blowing fingers and stamping feet,
Come from far away you to greet--
You by the fire and we in the street--
_Bidding you joy in the morning_!
For ere one half of the night was gone,
Sudden a star has led us on,
Raining bliss and benison--
Bliss to-morrow and more anon,
_Joy for every morning_.
Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow--
Saw a star o'er a stable low;
Mary she might not further go--
Welcome thatch, and litter below!
_Joy was hers in the morning!_
And then they heard the angels tell
'Who were the first to cry Nowell?
Animals all, as it befell,
In the stable where they did dwell!
_Joy shall be theirs in the morning!_'
Quoted in _The Wind in the Willows_, by KENNETH GRAHAME.
_By permission of Charles Scribner's Sons_
Holly Song
Blow, blow, thou winter winde,
Thou art not so unkinde,
As mans ingratitude
Thy tooth is not so keene,
Because thou art not seene,
Although thy breath be rude.
_Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, unto the greene holly,
Most frendship is fayning; most Loving, meere folly:
Then heigh ho, the holly,
This Life is most jolly._
Freize, freize, thou bitter skie
That dost not bight so nigh
As benefitts forgot:
Though thou the waters warpe,
Thy sting is not so sharpe,
As freind remembred not.
_Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, unto the greene holly,
Most frendship is fayning; most Loving, meere folly:
Then heigh ho, the holly,
This Life is most jolly._
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Before the Paling of the Stars
Before the paling of the stars,
Before the winter morn,
Before the earliest cockcrow,
Jesus Christ was born:
Born in a stable,
Cradled in a manger,
In the world His hands had made
Born a stranger.
Priest and King lay fast asleep
In Jerusalem,
Young and old lay fast asleep
In crowded Bethlehem:
Saint and Angel, ox and ass,
Kept a watch together
Before the Christmas daybreak
In the winter weather.
Jesus on His Mother's breast
In the stable cold,
Spotless Lamb of God was He,
Shepherd of the fold:
Let us kneel with Mary Maid,
With Joseph bent and hoary,
With Saint and Angel, ox and ass,
To hail the King of Glory.
CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI
"The Minstrels played their Christmas Tune"
The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
And who but listened?--till was paid
Respect to every inmate's claim:
The greeting given, the music played,
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And "merry Christmas" wished to all!
* * * * *
For pleasure hath not ceased to wait
On these expected annual rounds;
Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate
Call forth the unelaborate sounds,
Or they are offered at the door
That guards the lowliest of the poor.
How touching, when, at midnight, sweep
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,
To hear--and sink again to sleep!
Or, at an earlier call, to mark,
By blazing fire, the still suspense
Of self-complacent innocence.
The mutual nod,--the grave disguise
Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er;
And some unbidden tears that rise
For names once heard, and heard no more;
Tears brightened by the serenade
For infant in the cradle laid.
* * * * *
Hail, ancient Manners! sure defence,
Where they survive, of wholesome laws;
Remnants of love whose modest sense
Thus into narrow room withdraws;
Hail, Usages of pristine mould,
And ye that guard them, Mountains old!
* * * * *
Yes, they can make, who fail to find
Short leisure even in busiest days,
Moments, to cast a look behind,
And profit by those kindly rays
That through the clouds do sometimes steal,
And all the far-off past reveal.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
A Carol from the Old French
I hear along our street
Pass the minstrel throngs;
Hark! they play so sweet,
On their hautboys, Christmas songs!
_Let us by the fire
Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!_
In December ring
Every day the chimes;
Loud the gleemen sing
In the street their merry rhymes.
_Let us by the fire
Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!_
Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang, with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn.
_Let us by the fire
Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!_
These good people sang
Songs devout and sweet;
While the rafters rang,
There they stood with freezing feet.
_Let us by the fire
Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!_
* * * * *
Who by the fireside stands
Stamps his feet and sings;
But he who blows his hands
Not so gay a carol brings.
_Let us by the fire
Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!_
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
_A Paraphrase from the Old French_
[Illustration: THE MADONNA. _Giovanni Bellini._]
From Far Away
From far away we come to you.
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
To tell of great tidings, strange and true.
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
From far away we come to you,
To tell of great tidings, strange and true.
For as we wandered far and wide,
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
What hap do you deem there should us betide?
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
Under a bent when the night was deep,
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
There lay three shepherds, tending their sheep.
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
"O ye shepherds, what have ye seen,
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
To stay your sorrow and heal your teen?"
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
"In an ox stall this night we saw,
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
A Babe and a maid without a flaw.
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
"There was an old man there beside;
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
His hair was white, and his hood was wide.
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
"And as we gazed this thing upon,
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
Those twain knelt down to the little one.
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
"And a marvellous song we straight did hear,
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
That slew our sorrow and healed our care."
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
News of a fair and a marvellous thing,
_The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, we sing.
_Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._
_Old English Carol_
A Christmas Carol
"What means this glory round our feet,"
The Magi mused, "more bright than morn?"
And voices chanted clear and sweet,
"To-day the Prince of Peace is born!"
"What means that star," the Shepherds said,
"That brightens through the rocky glen?"
And angels, answering overhead,
Sang, "Peace on earth, good-will to men!"
'Tis eighteen hundred years and more
Since those sweet oracles were dumb;
We wait for Him, like them of yore;
Alas, He seems so slow to come!
But it was said, in words of gold,
No time or sorrow e'er shall dim,
That little children might be bold
In perfect trust to come to Him.
All round about our feet shall shine
A light like that the wise men saw,
If we our loving wills incline
To that sweet Life which is the Law.
So shall we learn to understand
The simple faith of shepherds then,
And, clasping kindly hand in hand,
Sing, "Peace on earth, good-will to men!"
But they who do their souls no wrong,
But keep at eve the faith of morn,
Shall daily hear the angel-song,
"To-day the Prince of Peace is born!"
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL
A Christmas Carol for Children
Good news from heaven the angels bring,
Glad tidings to the earth they sing:
To us this day a child is given,
To crown us with the joy of heaven.
This is the Christ, our God and Lord,
Who in all need shall aid afford:
He will Himself our Saviour be,
From sin and sorrow set us free.
To us that blessedness He brings,
Which from the Father's bounty springs:
That in the heavenly realm we may
With Him enjoy eternal day.
All hail, Thou noble Guest, this morn,
Whose love did not the sinner scorn!
In my distress Thou cam'st to me:
What thanks shall I return to Thee?
Were earth a thousand times as fair,
Beset with gold and jewels rare,
She yet were far too poor to be
A narrow cradle, Lord, for Thee.
Ah, dearest Jesus, Holy Child!
Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,
Within my heart, that it may be
A quiet chamber kept for Thee.
Praise God upon His heavenly throne,
Who gave to us His only Son:
For this His hosts, on joyful wing,
A blest New Year of mercy sing.
MARTIN LUTHER
V
CHRISTMAS DAY
[Illustration: CHRISTMAS DAY]
The Unbroken Song
A Scene of Mediæval Christmas
Christmas in Dreamthorp
By the Christmas Fire
Ode on the Morning of Christ's Nativity
Christmas Church
Dolly urges Silas Marner to go to Church
Yule in the Old Town
The Mahogany Tree
The Holly and the Ivy
Ballade of Christmas Ghosts
Christmas Treasures
Wassailer's Song
[Illustration]
The Unbroken Song
I heard the bells on Christmas Day,
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
A Scene of Mediæval Christmas
Let us imagine Christmas Day in a mediæval town of Northern England.
The cathedral is only partly finished. Its nave and transepts are the
work of Norman architects, but the choir has been destroyed in order
to be rebuilt by more graceful designers and more skillful hands. The
old city is full of craftsmen assembled to complete the church. Some
have come, as a religious duty, to work off their tale of sins by
bodily labor. Some are animated by a love of art--simple men who might
have rivalled with the Greeks in ages of more cultivation. Others,
again, are well-known carvers brought for hire from distant towns and
countries beyond the sea. But to-day, and for some days past, the sound
of hammer and chisel has been silent in the choir. Monks have bustled
about the nave, dressing it up with holly boughs and bushes of yew,
and preparing a stage for the sacred play they are going to exhibit
on the feast-day. Christmas is not like Corpus Christi, and now the
market-place stands inches deep in snow, so that the Miracles must be
enacted beneath a roof instead of in the open air. And what place so
appropriate as the cathedral, where poor people may have warmth and
shelter while they see the show? Besides, the gloomy old church, with
its windows darkened by the falling snow, lends itself to candle-light
effects that will enhance the splendor of the scene. Everything is
ready. The incense of morning mass yet lingers round the altar. The
voice of the friar, who told the people from the pulpit the story of
Christ's birth, has hardly ceased to echo. Time has just been given
for a mid-day dinner, and for the shepherds and farm lads to troop in
from the countryside. The monks are ready at the wooden stage to draw
its curtain, and all the nave is full of eager faces. There you may see
the smith and carpenter, the butcher's wife, the country priest, and
the gray-cowled friar. Scores of workmen, whose home the cathedral for
the time is made, are also here, and you may know the artists by their
thoughtful foreheads and keen eyes. That young monk carved Madonna and
her Son above the southern porch. Beside him stands the master-mason,
whose strong arms have hewn gigantic images of prophets and apostles
for the pinnacles outside the choir; and the little man with cunning
eyes between the two is he who cuts such quaint hobgoblins for the
gargoyles. He has a vein of satire in him, and his humor overflows into
the stone. Many and many a grim beast and hideous head has he hidden
among vine-leaves and trellis-work upon the porches. Those who know him
well are loath to anger him, for fear their sons and sons' sons should
laugh at them forever caricatured in solid stone.
Hark! there sounds the bell. The curtain is drawn, and the candles
blaze brightly round the wooden stage. What is this first scene? We
have God in Heaven, dressed like a pope with triple crown, and attended
by his court of angels. They sing and toss up censers till he lifts
his hand and speaks. In a long Latin speech he unfolds the order of
creation and his will concerning man. At the end of it up leaps an ugly
buffoon, in goatskin, with rams' horns upon his head. Some children
begin to cry; but the older people laugh, for this is the Devil, the
clown and comic character, who talks their common tongue, and has no
reverence before the very throne of Heaven. He asks leave to plague
men, and receives it; then, with many a curious caper, he goes down
to Hell, beneath the stage. The angels sing and toss their censers as
before, and the first scene closes to a sound of organs. The next is
more conventional, in spite of some grotesque incidents. It represents
the Fall; the monks hurry over it quickly, as a tedious but necessary
prelude to the birth of Christ. That is the true Christmas part of
the ceremony, and it is understood that the best actors and most
beautiful dresses are to be reserved for it. The builders of the choir
in particular are interested in the coming scenes, since one of their
number has been chosen, for his handsome face and tenor voice, to sing
the angel's part. He is a young fellow of nineteen, but his beard is
not yet grown, and long hair hangs down upon his shoulders. A chorister
of the cathedral, his younger brother, will act the Virgin Mary. At
last the curtain is drawn.
We see a cottage room, dimly lighted by a lamp, and Mary spinning
near her bedside. She sings a country air, and goes on working, till
a rustling noise is heard, more light is thrown upon the stage, and a
glorious creature, in white raiment, with broad golden wings, appears.
He bears a lily, and cries, "Ave Maria, Gratia Plena!" She does not
answer, but stands confused, with down-dropped eyes and timid mien.
Gabriel rises from the ground and comforts her, and sings aloud his
message of glad tidings. Then Mary gathers courage, and, kneeling in
her turn, thanks God; and when the angel and his radiance disappears,
she sings the song of the Magnificat, clearly and simply, in the
darkened room. Very soft and silver sounds this hymn through the great
church. The women kneel, and children are hushed as by a lullaby.
But some of the hinds and 'prentice-lads begin to think it rather
dull. They are not sorry when the next scene opens with a sheep-fold
and a little camp-fire. Unmistakable bleatings issue from the fold,
and five or six common fellows are sitting round the blazing wood.
One might fancy they had stepped straight from the church floor to
the stage, so natural do they look. Besides, they call themselves by
common names--Colin and Tom Lie-a-bed and Nimble Dick. Many a round
laugh wakes echoes in the church when these shepherds stand up, and
hold debate about a stolen sheep. Tom Lie-a-bed has nothing to remark
but that he is very sleepy, and does not want to go in search of it
to-night; Colin cuts jokes, and throws out shrewd suspicions that Dick
knows something of the matter; but Dick is sly, and keeps them off the
scent, although a few of his asides reveal to the audience that he is
the real thief. While they are thus talking, silence falls upon the
shepherds. Soft music from the church organ breathes, and they appear
to fall asleep.