But now they feed them with good cheer, Good farmers in the country nurse The client now his suit forbears- Hark! how the wags abroad do call For nuts and apples scrambling. Hark! how the roofs with laughter sound, The wenches with their wassel bowls, Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box; Our honest neighbours come by flocks, And here they will be merry! Now kings and queens poor sheep-cotes have, The honest now may play the knave, And wise men play the noddy. Some youths will now a mumming go Some others play at Rowland-bo, Then, wherefore in these merry days, JAMIESON. "This was the festival of Christmas in its original institution. Then were the house, the board, the arms, and the heart, open to the stranger, the friendless, the fatherless, and the widow; and the poor tenant was welcomed and levelled with his lord. Alas! these happy times are now vanished: the great era of the Christian redemption is now remembered in nothing but the name. That spirit of irreligion which is gone out into the world, together with its vile and genuine offspring-the sordid, selfish, insatiable spirit of avarice and private luxury,-have either devoured or driven away the generous and the God-like spirit of public hospitality, attended with innocent and social mirth. Or, if there be yet any remains of the ancient and hospitable festivity, they are, for the most part, such only as are seen in revels and riots, bringing reproach and infamy upon this sacred and solemn Festival."-From Dr. Delaney's Works. 1754. It is perhaps needless to add, that this extract has no connexion with the preceding. THE KINGES BALADE. A SONG of the time of Henry VIII.; said to have been, at some period of his reign, a great favourite with that monarch. It has even been deemed his own composition; but this Mr. Evans thinks unfounded. * Until. PASTIME, with good company, Hunt, sing, and dance, My heart is set; All godly sport, Το my comfort, Who shall me let. § Youth will have needs dalliance, + Whoso. Pastime. Hinder. EVANS. For idleness Is chief mistress Of vices all: Then who can say, But, pass the day, Company with honesty, Is virtue and vice to flee; But every man hath his free will. The worst t'eschew, I shall use me. Seek after lay hold of. A SONG TO THE LUTE IN MUSIC. Composed by Richard Edwards, who was gentleman of the chapel, and master of the choir, to Queen Elizabeth: the song is, however, said to have been written in the time of Henry VIII. The first four lines are quoted by Shakspeare, in "Romeo and Juliet," act 4, sc. 5. WHEN griping griefs the heart would wound, There Music, with her silver sound, With speed is wont to send redress: In joy, it makes our mirth abound; In woe, it cheers our heavy sprights; By Music's pleasant, sweet delights: |