II. If we may ask the reason, say The why, and wherefore all things here III. Why does the chilling winter's morn IV. Come and see The cause, why things thus fragrant be: 'Tis He is born, whose quickening birth Gives life and lustre, public mirth, To Heaven and the under Earth. CHORUS. We see Him come, and know him ours, I. The darling of the world is come, And fit it is we find a room To welcome him. II. The nobler part Of all the house here, is the heart. CHORUS. Which we will give Him; and bequeath This holly and this ivy wreath, To do Him honour who's our King, And Lord of all this revelling. TRUE HOSPITALITY. Although the following poem contains no immediate reference to the Christmas season, still, the pictures which it presents of the hospitality of the period, and the character of the entertainment met with at the table of a country gentleman, of the reign of Charles I., render it peculiarly applicable to that particular season of the year, when open-handed liberality, such as it commemorates, is in the ascendant. TRUE HOSPITALITY: A PANEGYRIC TO SIR LEWIS PEMBERTON. TILL I shall come again, let this suffice, I send my salt, my sacrifice To thee, thy lady, younglings, and as far To the worn threshold, porch, hall, parlour; kitchen, Where laden spits, warped with large ribs of beef, To the lank stranger and the sour swain, No comer to thy roof his guest-rite wants; Or, staying there, is scourged with taunts Of some rough groom, who, yirked with corns, says, "Sir, You've dipt too long i' th' vinegar; And with our broth and bread and bits, Sir friend, You've fared well, pray make an end; An elfish spirit. Two days you've larded here; a third, you know, Manners know distance, and a man unrude His stomach to a second meal. No, no, Thy house, well fed and taught, can show No such crabbed visard: Thou hast learned thy train With heart and hand to entertain; And by the armsful, with the breast unhid, As the old race of mankind did When either's heart, and either's hand did strive To be the nearer relative: Thou dost redeem those times; and what was lost Of ancient honesty, may boast It keeps a growth in thee, and so will run A course in thy fame's pledge, thy son. Thus, like a Roman Tribune, thou thy gate Early sets ope to feast, and late; Keeping no currish waiter to affright, With blasting eye, the appetite, Which fain would waste upon thy cates, but that Best and more suppling piece he cuts, and by When checked by the butler's look. TRUE HOSPITALITY. No, no, thy bread, thy wine, thy jocund beer Is not reserved for Trebins here, But all who at thy table seated are, Find equal freedom, equal fare: And thou, like to that hospitable god, Jove, joy'st when guests make their abode The pheasant, partridge, godwit, reeve, ruff, 1ail, Of thy glad table; not a dish more known But as thy meat, so thy immortal wine Makes the smirk face of each to shine, And spring fresh rosebuds, while the salt, the wit No scurrile jest, no open scene is laid Here, for to make the face afraid; But temp'rate mirth dealt forth, and so discreet- By cruise and measure; thus devoting wine No one that's there his guilty glass Repentance to his liberty. |