In The Yule-Log Glow, Book IV

As Jacob with travel was weary one day,
At night on a stone for a pillow he lay;
He saw in a vision a ladder so high
That its foot was on earth and its top in the sky.
Hallelujah to Jesus, who died on the tree,
And hath rais'd up a ladder of mercy for me.

This ladder is high, it is strong and well made,
Hath stood hundreds of years and is not yet decayed;
Many millions have climbed it and reached Zion's hill,
And thousands, by faith, are climbing it still.
Hallelujah, etc.

Come, let us ascend, all may climb it who will,
For the angels of Jacob are guarding it still;
And remember each step that by faith we pass o'er,
Some prophet or martyr hath trod it before.
Hallelujah, etc.

And when we arrive at the haven of rest,
We shall hear the glad word: Come up hither, ye blest!
Here are regions of light, here are mansions of bliss,
Oh, who would not climb such a ladder as this?
Hallelujah, etc.

SAINT STEPHEN, THE CLERK.

Saint Stephen was a clerk
In King Herod's hall,
And servéd him of bread and cloth
As ever king befall.

Stephen out of kitchen came
With boar's head on hand,
He saw a star was fair and bright
Over Bethlehem stand.

He kist adown the boar's head
And went into the hall:
"I forsake thee, King Herod,
And thy workés all.

"I forsake thee, King Herod,
And thy workés all;
There is a child in Bethlehem born
Is better than we all."

"What aileth thee, Stephen?
What is thee befall?
Lacketh thee either meat or drink
In King Herod's hall?"

"Lacketh me neither meat ne drink
In King Herod's hall;
There is a child in Bethlehem born
Is better than we all."

"What aileth thee, Stephen?
Art thou wode,[I] or thou ginnest to breed?[J]
Lacketh thee either gold or fee,
Or any rich weed?"[K]

"Lacketh me neither gold nor fee,
Ne none rich weed;
There is a child in Bethlehem born
Shall helpen us at our need."

"That is also sooth,[L] Stephen,
Also sooth i-wis
As this capon crowé shall
That lieth here in my dish."

That word was not so soon said,
That word in that hall,
The capon crew Christus natus est
Among the lordés all.

"Riseth up, my tormentors,
By two and all by one,
And leadeth Stephen out of this town,
And stoneth him with stone."

Tooken they Stephen
And stoned him in the way,
And therefore is his even
On Christés own day.

FOOTNOTES:

[I] Mad.

[J] Scold.

[K] Dress.

[L] As true.

THE CARNAL AND THE CRANE.

As I pass'd by a riverside,
And there as I did reign,[M]
In argument I chanced to hear
A Carnal [N] and a Crane.

The Carnal said unto the Crane,
If all the world should turn,
Before we had the Father,
But now we have the Son!

From whence does the Son come?
From where and from what place?
He said, In a manger,
Between an ox and ass!

I pray thee, said the Carnal,
Tell me before thou go,
Was not the mother of Jesus
Conceived by the Holy Ghost?

She was the purest Virgin,
And the cleanest from sin;
She was the handmaid of our Lord,
And mother of our King.

Where is the golden cradle
That Christ was rockéd in?
Where are the silken sheets
That Jesus was wrapt in?

A manger was the cradle
That Christ was rockéd in;
The provender the asses left
So sweetly He slept on.

There was a star in the West-land,
So bright did it appear
Into King Herod's chamber,
And where King Herod were.

The Wise Men soon espied it,
And told the king on high,
A princely babe was born that night
No king could e'er destroy.

If this be true, King Herod said,
As thou tellest unto me,
This roasted cock that lies in the dish
Shall crow full fences [O] three.

The cock soon freshly feathered was
By the work of God's own hand,
And then three fences crowéd he
In the dish where he did stand.

Rise up, rise up, you merry men all,
See that you ready be,
All children under two years old
Now slain they all shall be.

Then Jesus, ah! and Joseph,
And Mary that was so pure,
They travelled into Egypt,
As you shall find it sure.

And when they came to Egypt's land,
Amongst those fierce wild beasts,
Mary, she being weary,
Must needs sit down to rest.

Come sit thee down, says Jesus,
Come sit thee down by me,
And thou shalt see how these wild beasts
Do come and worship me.

First came the lovely lion,
Which Jesu's grace did spring,
And of the wild beasts in the field,
The lion shall be the king.

We'll choose our virtuous princes,
Of birth and high degree,
In every sundry nation,
Where'er we come and see.

Then Jesus, ah! and Joseph,
And Mary, that was unknown,
They travelled by a husbandman,
Just while his seed was sown.

God speed thee, man! said Jesus,
Go fetch thy ox and wain,
And carry home thy corn again
Which thou this day hast sown.

The husbandman fell on his knees,
Even before his face;
Long time hast Thou been looked for,
But now Thou art come at last.

And I myself do now believe
Thy name is Jesus called;
Redeemer of mankind Thou art,
Though undeserving all.

The truth, man, thou hast spoken,
Of it thou may'st be sure,
For I must lose my precious blood
For thee and thousands more.

If any one should come this way,
And inquire for me alone,
Tell them that Jesus passed by,
As thou thy seed did sow.

After that there came King Herod,
With his train so furiously,
Inquiring of the husbandman,
Whether Jesus passed by.

Why, the truth it must be spoke,
And the truth it must be known,
For Jesus passéd by this way
When my seed was sown.

But now I have it reapen,
And some laid on my wain,
Ready to fetch and carry
Into my barn again.

Turn back, says the captain,
Your labor and mine's in vain,
It's full three-quarters of a year
Since he his seed sown.

So Herod was deceivéd
By the work of God's own hand,
And further he proceeded
Into the Holy Land.

There's thousands of children young,
Which for His sake did die;
Do not forbid those little ones,
And do not them deny.

The truth now I have spoken,
And the truth now I have shown,
Even the blessed Virgin,
She's now brought forth a Son.

FOOTNOTES:

[M] Run.

[N] Crow.

[O] Rounds.

THE HOLY WELL.

As it fell out one May morning,
And upon one bright holiday,
Sweet Jesus asked of His dear mother,
If He might go to play.

To play, to play, sweet Jesus shall go,
And to play pray get you gone;
And let me hear of no complaint
At night when you come home.

Sweet Jesus went down to yonder town
As far as the Holy Well,
And there did see as fine children
As any tongue can tell.

He said, God bless you every one,
And your bodies Christ save and see:
Little children, shall I play with you,
And you shall play with me?

But they made answer to Him, No:
They were lords' and ladies' sons;
And He, the meanest of them all,
Was but a maiden's child, born in an ox's stall.

Sweet Jesus turned Him around,
And He neither laughed nor smiled,
But the tears came trickling from His eyes
Like water from the skies.

Sweet Jesus turned Him about,
To His mother's dear home went He,
And said, I have been in yonder town,
As far as you can see.

I have been down in yonder town
As far as the Holy Well,
There did I meet as fine children
As any tongue can tell.

I bid God bless them every one,
And their bodies Christ save and see:
Little children, shall I play with you,
And you shall play with me?

But they made answer to me, No:
They were lords' and ladies' sons;
And I, the meanest of them all,
Was but a maiden's child, born in an ox's stall.

Though you are but a maiden's child,
Born in an ox's stall,
Thou art the Christ, the King of heaven,
And the Saviour of them all.

Sweet Jesus, go down to yonder town
As far as the Holy Well,
And take away those sinful souls,
And dip them deep in hell.

Nay, nay, sweet Jesus said,
Nay, nay, that may not be;
For there are too many sinful souls
Crying out for the help of me.

THE HOLLY AND THE IVY.

The Holly and the Ivy,
Now both are full well grown;
Of all the trees that spring in wood,
The holly bears the crown.
The holly bears a blossom
As white as a lily flow'r;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet Saviour.

The holly bears a berry
As red as any blood,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To do poor sinners good.
The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas Day in the morn.

The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.
The holly and the ivy
Now are both well grown;
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.

THE CONTEST OF THE VINES.

Nay, ivy, nay,
It shall not be, I wis;
Let holly have the mastery,
As the manner is.

Holly stand in the hall,
Fair to behold;
Ivy stand without the door,
She is full sore a-cold.
Nay, ivy, nay, etc.

Holly and his merry men
They dancen and they sing;
Ivy and her maidens
They weepen and they wring.
Nay, ivy, nay, etc.

Ivy hath a kybe,[P]
She caught it with the cold;
So mot they all have ae,[Q]
That with ivy hold.
Nay, ivy, nay, etc.

Holly hath berries
As red as any rose,
The forester and the hunters
Keep them from the does.
Nay, ivy, nay, etc.

Ivy hath berries
As black as any sloe;
There come the owl
And eat him as she go.
Nay, ivy, nay, etc.

Holly hath birdés
A full fair flock,
The nightingale, the popinjay,
The gentle laverock.
Nay, ivy, nay, etc.

Good ivy,
What birdés hast thou?
None but the howlet
That krey [R] "How, how."

Nay, ivy, nay,
It shall not be, I wis;
Let holly have the mastery,
As the manner is.

FOOTNOTES:

[P] Chapped skin.

[Q] So may all have.

[R] Cries.

ANE SANG OF THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.

A SCOTCH CAROL.

I come from hevin to tell
The best nowellis that ever befell;
To you this tythinges trew I bring,
And I will of them say and sing:

This day to yow is borne ane childe
Of Marie meike and Virgine mylde,
That blessit barne, bining and kynde,
Sall yow rejoyce baith heart and mynd.

My saull and lyfe, stand up and see
Quha lyes in ane cribe of tree,
Quhat babe is that, so gude and faire?
It is Christ, God's sonne and aire.

O God, that made all creature,
How art Thow becum so pure,
That on the hay and stray will lye
Amang the asses, oxin, and kye!

O my deir hert, young Jesus sweit,
Prepare Thy creddill in my spreit,
And I sall rocke Thee in my hert,
And never mair from Thee depart.

But I sall praise Thee evermoir
With sangs sweit unto Thy gloir,
The knees of my hert sall I bow,
And sing that right Balululow.

CHRISTMAS MINSTRELSY.

The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage eaves;
While smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.

Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze
Nor check the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.

And who but listened?—till was paid
Respect to every inmate's claim,
The greeting given, the music played
In honor of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And a merry Christmas wished to all.

O Brother! I revere the choice
That took thee from thy native hills;
And it is given thee to rejoice:
Though public care full often tills
(Heaven only witness of the toil)
A barren and ungrateful soil.

Yet would that thou, with me and mine,
Hadst heard this never-failing rite;
And seen on other faces shine
A true revival of the light
Which nature, and these rustic powers,
In simple childhood, spread through ours!

For pleasure hath not ceased to wait
On these expected annual rounds,
Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate
Call forth the unelaborate sounds,
Or they are offered at the door
That guard the lowliest of the poor.

How touching, when at midnight sweep
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,
To hear—and sink again in sleep!
Or at an earlier call, to mark,
By blazing fire, the still suspense
Of self-complacent innocence;

The mutual nod—the grave disguise
Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er,
And some unhidden tears that rise
For names once heard, and heard no more;
Tears brightened by the serenade
For infant in the cradle laid!

Ah! not for emerald fields alone,
With ambient streams more pure and bright
Than fabled Cytherea's zone
Glittering before the Thunderer's sight,
Is to my heart of hearts endeared,
The ground where we were born and reared!

Hail, ancient manners! sure defence,
Where they survive, of wholesome laws:
Remnants of love whose modest sense
Thus into narrow room withdraws;
Hail, usages of pristine mould,
And ye that guard them, Mountains old!

Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought
That slights this passion or condemns;
If thee fond fancy ever brought
From the proud margin of the Thames,
And Lambeth's venerable towers,
To humble streams and greener bowers.

Yes, they can make, who fail to find
Short leisure even in busiest days,
Moments to cast a look behind,
And profit by those kindly rays
That through the clouds do sometimes steal,
And all the far-off past reveal.

Hence, while the imperial city's din
Beats frequent on thy satiate ear,
A pleased attention I may win
To agitations less severe,
That neither overwhelm nor cloy,
But fill the hollow vale with joy!

William Wordsworth.

THE OLD, OLD STORY.

Listen, Lordings, unto me, a tale I will you tell,
Which, as on this night of glee, in David's town befell.
Joseph came from Nazareth, with Mary that sweet maid;
Weary were they, nigh to death; and for a lodging pray'd.
Sing high, sing high, sing low, sing low,
Sing high, sing low, sing to and fro,
Go tell it out with speed,
Cry out and shout all round about,
That Christ is born indeed.

In the inn they found no room; a scanty bed they made:
Soon a Babe from Mary's womb was in the manger laid.
Forth He came as light through glass: He came to save us all,
In the stable ox and ass before their Maker fall.
Sing high, sing low, etc.

Shepherds lay afield that night, to keep the silly sheep,
Hosts of angels in their sight came down from heaven's high steep.
Tidings! tidings! unto you: to you a Child is born,
Purer than the drops of dew, and brighter than the morn.
Sing high, sing low, etc.

Onward then the angels sped, the shepherds onward went,
God was in His manger bed, in worship low they bent.
In the morning see ye mind, my masters one and all,
At the altar Him to find who lay within the stall.
Sing high, sing low, etc.

H. R. Bramley.

A CHRISTMAS BALLAD.

Outlanders, whence come ye last?
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
Through what green sea and great have ye past?
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

From far away, O masters mine,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
We come to bear you goodly wine:
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

From far away we come to you,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
To tell of great tidings strange and true:
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

News, news of the Trinity,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
And Mary and Joseph from over the sea:
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

For as we wandered far and wide,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
What hope do ye deem there should us betide?
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

Under a bent when the night was deep,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
There lay three shepherds tending their sheep:
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

"O ye shepherds, what have ye seen,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
To slay your sorrow and heal your teen?"
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

"In an ox-stall this night we saw,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
A Babe and a maid without a flaw.
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

"There was an old man there beside,
The snow in the street and the wind, on the door.
His hair was white, and his hood was wide.
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

"And as we gazed this thing upon,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
Those twain knelt down to the Little One.
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

"And a marvellous song we straight did hear,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
That slew our sorrow and healed our care."
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

News of a fair and a marvellous thing,
The snow in the street and the wind on the door.
Nowell, nowell, nowell, we sing!
Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.

William Morris.

A FRENCH NOËL.

(TRANSLATED FROM GUI BARÔZAI.)

I hear along our street
Pass the minstrel throngs;
Hark! they play so sweet,
On their hautboys, Christmas songs!
Let us by the fire
Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire!

In December ring
Every day the chimes;
Loud the gleemen sing
In the streets their merry rhymes.
Let us by the fire, etc.

Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang, with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn.
Let us by the fire, etc.

These good people sang
Songs devout and sweet;
While the rafters rang
There they stood with freezing feet.
Let us by the fire, etc.

Nuns in frigid cells
At this holy tide
For want of something else
Christmas songs at times have tried.
Let us by the fire, etc.

Washerwomen old,
To the sound they beat,
Sing by rivers cold
With uncovered heads and feet.
Let us by the fire, etc.

Who by the fireside stands
Stamps his feet and sings;
But he who blows his hands
Not so gay a carol brings.
Let us by the fire, etc.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

MASTERS, IN THIS HALL.

"To Bethl'em did they go, the shepherds three;
To Bethl'em did they go to see whe'r it were so or no,
Whether Christ were born or no
To set men free."

Masters, in this hall,
Hear ye news to-day
Brought over sea,
And ever I you pray.
Nowell! Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!
Sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on earth,
Born is God's Son so dear.

Going over the hills,
Through the milk-white snow,
Heard I ewes bleat
While the winds did blow.
Nowell, etc.

Shepherds many an one
Sat among the sheep;
No man spake more word
Than they had been asleep.
Nowell, etc.

Quoth I, "Fellows mine,
Why this guise sit ye?
Making but dull cheer,
Shepherds though ye be?
Nowell, etc.

"Shepherds should of right
Leap, and dance, and sing;
Thus to see you sit
Is a right strange thing."
Nowell, etc.

Quoth these fellows three,
"To Bethl'em town we go,
To see a Mighty Lord
Lie in manger low."
Nowell, etc.

"How name ye this Lord,
Shepherds?" then said I.
"Very God," they said,
"Come from Heaven high."
Nowell, etc.

Then to Bethl'em town
We went two and two,
And in a sorry place
Heard the oxen low.
Nowell, etc.

Therein did we see
A sweet and goodly May,
And a fair old man;
Upon the straw she lay.
Nowell, etc.

And a little Child
On her arm had she;
"Wot ye who is this?"
Said the hinds to me.
Nowell, etc.

Ox and ass Him know,
Kneeling on their knee:
Wondrous joy had I
This little Babe to see.
Nowell, etc.

This is Christ the Lord:
Masters, be ye glad!
Christmas is come in,
And no folk should be sad.
Nowell, etc.

William Morris.

In The Yule-Log Glow, Book IV

About This Book

SAINT STEPHEN, THE CLERK.

FOOTNOTES:

THE CARNAL AND THE CRANE.

FOOTNOTES:

THE HOLY WELL.

THE HOLLY AND THE IVY.

THE CONTEST OF THE VINES.

FOOTNOTES:

ANE SANG OF THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.

A SCOTCH CAROL.

CHRISTMAS MINSTRELSY.

THE OLD, OLD STORY.

A CHRISTMAS BALLAD.

A FRENCH NOËL.

(TRANSLATED FROM GUI BARÔZAI.)

MASTERS, IN THIS HALL.

The Worship Of The Babe.