Or hawking at the river, or the bush,

Or shooting at the greedy thrush,

Thou dost with some delight the day out wear,
Although the coldest of the year!

The whilst the several seasons thou hast seen
Of flow'ry fields, of copses green,

The mowed meadows, with the fleeced sheep,
And feasts that either shearers keep;
The ripened ears, yet humble in their height,
And furrows laden with their weight;

The apple-harvest, that doth longer last;

The hogs returned home fat from mast;* The trees cut out in log, and those boughs made that lent a shade!

A fire now,

Thus Pan and Sylvan, having had their rites,

Comus puts in for new delights,

And fills thy open hall with mirth and cheer,
As if in Saturn's reign it were;

Apollo's harp, and Hermes' lyre resound,
Nor are the Muses strangers found:
The rout of rural folk come thronging in,

(Their rudeness then is thought no sin,) Thy noblest spouse affords them welcome grace; And the great heroes of her race

Sit mixt with loss of state, or reverence.

Freedom doth with degree dispense. The jolly wassail walks the often round,

And in their cups their cares are drowned.

The fruit of the oak or beech.

BOAR'S HEAD CAROL.

The annexed is the only Carol on bringing in the Boar's Head that belongs to the era of Elizabeth and her successor James I. It was used before the Christmas Prince at St. John the Baptist's College, Oxford, in 1607. The engraving below is from an ancient carving, which is supposed to have been the veritable sign of the famous Boar's Head tavern in Eastcheap.

BOAR'S HEAD CAROL.

HE Boar is dead,

Lo, here is his head:

What man could have done more

Than his head off to strike,

Meleager like,

And bring it as I do before?

He living spoiled

Where good men toiled,

Which made kind Ceres sorry;

But now, dead and drawn,

Is very good brawn,

And we have brought it for ye.

Then set down the swineyard,

The foe to the vineyard,

Let Bacchus crown his fall;

Let this boar's head and mustard.

Stand for pig, goose, and custard,

And so you are welcome all.

The following capital song affords an admirable contrast between the courtiers of Elizabeth, and those of her successor. The queen was opposed to the fashion then becoming prevalent, of country gentlemen spending their Christmas in London; and in a letter of the period, written by her orders, "the gentlemen of Norfolk and Suffolk are commanded to depart from London before Christmas, and repair to their counties, and there to keep hospitality among their neighbours." The country gentry, however, appear to have availed themselves of the opportunity of gratifying their hankering for a town life, when there was no imperious queen to issue her opposing commands, for we find a writer of the reign of James I. expressing himself in the following strain:— "Much do I detest that effeminacy of the most that burn out day and night in their beds, and by the fireside in trifles, gaming, or courting their yellow mistresses all the winter in a city; appearing, but as cuckoos in the spring, one time in the year to the country and their tenants, leaving the care of keeping good houses at Christmas to the honest ycomen of the country."

The song is reprinted from the "Percy Reliques." It is there stated to have been taken from a black-letter copy in the Pepys' Collection.

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.

I'LL sing you an old song made by a fine old pate,
Of a worshipful old gentleman who had a great estate,
That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate,
And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate:
Like an old courtier of the queen's,

And the queen's old courtier.

With an old lady, whose anger one word assuages,

That every quarter paid their old servants their wages,
And never knew what belonged to coachmen, footmen, nor pages,
But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges:
Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old study filled full of learned old books,

With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his looks,

With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks,

And an old kitchen, that maintained half a dozen old cooks :

Like an old courtier, &c.

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.

With an old hall, hung about with pikes, guns, and bows, With old swords and bucklers, that had borne many

shrewd blows,

And an old frieze coat, to cover his worship's trunk hose, And a cup of old sherry, to comfort his copper nose: Like an old courtier, &c.

With a good old fashion, when Christmas was come,
To call in all his old neighbours with bagpipe and drum,
With good cheer enough to furnish every old room,
And old liquor able to make a cat speak, and man dumb:
Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel of hounds,
That never hawked, nor hunted, but in his own grounds;
Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his own bounds,
And when he died gave every child a thousand good pounds:
Like an old courtier, &c.

But to his eldest son his house and land he assigned,
Charging him in his will to keep the old bountiful mind,
To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighbours be kind;
But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was inclined:
Like a young courtier of the king's,

And the king's young courtier.

Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land,
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his command,
And takes up a thousand pound upon his father's land,
And gets drunk in a tavern, till he can neither go nor stand :
Like a young courtier, &c.

With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, and spare,
Who never knew what belonged to good house-keeping, or care,
Who buys gaudy-coloured fans to play with wanton air,
And seven or eight different dressings of other women's hair:
Like a young courtier, &c.

With a new-fashioned hall, built where the old one stood,
Hung round with new pictures, that do the poor no good,
With a fine marble chimney, wherein burns neither coal nor

wood,

And a new smooth shovelboard, whereon no victuals e'er

stood:

Like a young courtier, &c.

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