EVERGREEN DECKING.—THE CHRISTMAS BOX.

The jetty beauties of the chimney back,
Or lady's shoe; others more lucky far,

By hap or favour meet a sweeter doom,
And on each fair one's lovely lips imprint
The ardent kiss.

EVERGREEN-DECKING AT CHRISTMAS.

FROM every hedge is plucked by eager hands
The holly branch, with prickly leaves replete,
And fraught with berries of a crimson hue;
Which, torn asunder from its parent trunk,
Is straightway taken to the neighbouring towns;
Where windows, mantles, candlesticks, and shelves,
Quarts, pints, decanters, pipkins, basins, jugs,
And other articles of household ware,

The verdant garb confess.

THE CHRISTMAS BOX.

GLADLY the boy, with Christmas Box in hand,
Throughout the town his devious route pursues ;
And, of his master's customers, implores
The yearly mite: often his cash he shakes;
The which, perchance, of coppers few consists,
Whose dulcet jingle fills his little soul

With joy, as boundless as the debtor feels,

When, from the bailiff's rude, uncivil gripe,

His friends redeem him, and, with pity fraught,

The claims of all his creditors discharge.

THE CHRISTMAS FEAST.

Now social friends their social friends invite
To share the feast: and on the table 's placed
The famed sirloin, with puddings nicely baked,
Surcharged with plums, and from the oven hot;
Nor wanting are minced pies, in plenteous heaps,
T'augment the dainties of the brave repast.

Having disposed of the few poems belonging to this section, that we have succeeded in meeting with, written by acknowledged authors, we now proceed to introduce several of an anonymous character. Our first selection is from "Poor Robin's Almanack;" and, although these verses are of but a humble order of merit, they are still interesting, as exhibiting the particular features of the Christmas season during a considerable portion of the eighteenth century.

THE GOOD OLD TIMES.

(From "Poor Robin's Almanack," 1709.)

OW happy were those days so old,
When feasting did all twelve days hold;
When tables groaned with boiled and roast,

And key of buttery door was lost;
When cooks had hardly time to eat,

For serving up of others' meat;

When the old hall with gambols rung,

And merry carols they were sung;

While many tales and jests were saying,

Some were at Whisk and Cross Ruff playing,
Primevo, Gleek, Picquet, All Fours,
In harmless mirth they spent the hours;

A HINT TO THE FANATICS.

Knaves out of Town who may not hurt ye,
And Tom-fool's game called One and Thirty,
Winning and Losing, Loudum, Put,

Then Post and Pair, and next New Cut.*
Some were a shoeing the wild mare,

With other tricks that used were.

But those things now are laid aside,
The better to maintain our pride,
And Christmas scarcely should we know,
Did not the almanacks it show.

A HINT TO THE FANATICS.

(From "Poor Robin's Almanack,” 1711.)

Now Christmas day approaches near,
Trim up the house with holly,
And set abroach the strongest beer,
For neighbours to be jolly.
Let fanatics old customs blame,

Yet Christmas is a High day,

Though they will fast upon the same,
And feast upon Good Friday.

Good works are popishly inclined,
Say they that none will do,

Yet they for pride can money find,

And keep a coach also.

All the above were games with cards, and several among them will be recognised as popular at the present day.

Thus, that which should relieve the poor,

And feast them at this tide,

Is spent upon a coach and four,
To maintain foolish pride.

Yet some there are, although but few,
In whom more goodness lurks,
Who, to the poor will pity show,

And show their faith by works.

I wish, for one, that these were twain,
And knaves away all swept,

That honest Christians, once again,
With feasting may be kept.

SUMMER TOIL AND WINTER CHEER. (From "Poor Robin's Almanack," 1724.)

Now after all our slaving, toiling,

In harvest or hot weather broiling,
The scorching weather's gone and past,
And shivering winter's come at last.
Good fires will now do very well,
For Christmas cheer begins to smell.
Those that in summer laboured hard,
Are for a Christmas storm prepared ;
And from their store are able now
To feast themselves, and neighbours too,
With pork and mutton, veal and beef-
Of country feasting these are chief;
But those that yet would farther go,
May have a hollow bit or so,

LABOUR'S REWARD.

Pig, capon, turkey, goose, and coney,
Whatever may be had for money;
Plum-pudding, cheese, and furmity,
With pasty, tarts, and Christmas pie;
Good nappy ale, or humming beer,
Suits very well to such good cheer.
Such plenteous living's their enjoyment,
Who truly follow their employment,
While slothful, lurking, idle drones
Do scarce deserve to pick the bones.

LABOUR'S REWARD.

(From "Poor Robin's Almanack," 1728.)

THE short cold days, and long cold nights, The people to the fire invites.

Now happy they who furnished are,

And did, in summer-time prepare

For victuals, drink, and good hot fires,
All which this season now requires.

If geese and sheep with care were bred,
And, in their season, duly fed-

If, at the

proper time of year,

You from the sheep the wool did shear

And if you afterwards begun

To have it carded, have it spun,

And wove, and put upon your back—

You'll be warm dressed when others lack.

If you October beer did brew,

You have the credit of it now,

And pleasure of the drinking too.