IT was, and still my care is, And garlic chives not scarcely; And not by fire to harm me; With inoffensive mirth here; That while the Wassail bowl here With North-down ale doth trowl here, No syllable doth fall here, To mar the mirth at all here. For which, O chimney-keepers! I dare not call ye sweepers, So long as I am able To keep a country table, Great be my fare, or small cheer, I'll eat and drink up all here. THE WASSAIL BOWL. ADDRESSED TO HIS FRIEND JOHN WICKES. NEXT will I cause my hopeful lad, To crown the hearth; Larr thus conspiring with our mirth ; Then to infuse Our browner ale into the cruise, A NEW YEAR'S GIFT. Which sweetly spiced, we 'll first carouse Unto the genius of the house; Then the next health to friends of mine, Whose fortunes I have frolicked with, Bear up the magic bough and spell, To those, and then again to thee Though not so fresh, yet full as merry The untamed heifer, or the pricket ;* Thus, 'till we see the fire less shine From th' embers than the kitling's eyne, We'll still sit up, Sphering about the Wassail cup To all those times Which gave me honour for my rhymes: The coal once spent, we 'll then to bed, Far more than night bewearièd. The buck in his second year. 1 SENT TO SIR SIMEON STEWARD. No news of navies burnt at seas: No news of late-spawned titteries; That frights men with a Parliament : We send to you; but here a jolly Read then, and when your faces shine With bucksome meat and cap'ring wine, A very old game: those who took part in it hopped on one leg, and beat each other with leathern thongs, with a view, we presume, of forcing the raised leg to touch the ground. + It was formerly the custom to place a bean and a pea in the Twelfth Cake, and the person who obtained the piece containing the former was chosen king, and the latter, queen, of the evening. See the poem on page 85. A SPELL. Remember us in cups full crowned, And let our city health go round, Quite through the young maids and the men, Until the firèd chestnuts leap For joy to see the fruits ye reap, That tempts till it be tossèd up. As daughters to the instant year; Sit crowned with rose-buds, and carouse, 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 bag-pipe all address Till sleep takes place of weariness. And thus, throughout, with Christmas plays, The following refers to a custom that prevailed in Devonshire, and other cider counties, of throwing the dregs of the Wassail-bowl, on the eve of twelfth-day, against the stems of the best bearing fruit trees. Further particulars respecting this singular practice are given in the next section. A SPELL. WASSAIL the trees, that they may bear As you do give them wassailing. I. TELL us, thou clear and heavenly tongue, Where is the Babe that lately sprung? II. Or say, if this new Birth of ours Sleeps, laid within some ark of flowers, III. Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek To find him out? STAR. No, this ye need not do; But only come and see Him rest, A Princely Babe, in 's mother's breast. CHORUS. He's seen! He's seen! why then around, Let's kiss the sweet and holy ground; And all rejoice that we have found A King, before conception, crowned. IV. Come then, come then, and let us bring Unto our pretty twelfth-tide King, Each one his several offering. CHORUS. And when night comes we'll give him wassailing ; And that his treble honours may be seen, We'll choose him King, and make his mother Queen. |