Christmas Eve in Merry England
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;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;Forth to the wood did merry-men go,To gather in the mistletoe.Then open’d wide the baron’s hallTo vassal, tenant, serf, and all;Power laid his rod of rule asideAnd Ceremony doff’d his pride.The heir, with roses in his shoes,That night might village partner choose;The Lord, underogating, shareThe 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 boardNo 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 bays 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 wassel round, in good brown bowls,Garnish’d with ribbons, blithely trowls;There the huge sirloin reek’d; hard byPlum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;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 seeTraces of ancient mystery;White shirts supplied the masquerade,And smutted cheeks the visors made;But, O! what maskers, richly dight,Can boast of bosoms half so light!England was merry England, whenOld Christmas brought his sports again.
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;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;Forth to the wood did merry-men go,To gather in the mistletoe.Then open’d wide the baron’s hallTo vassal, tenant, serf, and all;Power laid his rod of rule asideAnd Ceremony doff’d his pride.The heir, with roses in his shoes,That night might village partner choose;The Lord, underogating, shareThe 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 boardNo 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 bays 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 wassel round, in good brown bowls,Garnish’d with ribbons, blithely trowls;There the huge sirloin reek’d; hard byPlum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;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 seeTraces of ancient mystery;White shirts supplied the masquerade,And smutted cheeks the visors made;But, O! what maskers, richly dight,Can boast of bosoms half so light!England was merry England, whenOld Christmas brought his sports again.
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;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;Forth to the wood did merry-men go,To gather in the mistletoe.Then open’d wide the baron’s hallTo vassal, tenant, serf, and all;Power laid his rod of rule asideAnd Ceremony doff’d his pride.The heir, with roses in his shoes,That night might village partner choose;The Lord, underogating, shareThe 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 boardNo 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 bays 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 wassel round, in good brown bowls,Garnish’d with ribbons, blithely trowls;There the huge sirloin reek’d; hard byPlum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;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 seeTraces of ancient mystery;White shirts supplied the masquerade,And smutted cheeks the visors made;But, O! what maskers, richly dight,Can boast of bosoms half so light!England was merry England, whenOld Christmas brought his sports again.
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;
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;
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 bays 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 wassel 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 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;
White shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made;
But, O! what maskers, richly dight,
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England, when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
C. MüllerTHE HOLY NIGHT
C. MüllerTHE HOLY NIGHT
C. Müller
THE HOLY NIGHT