Volume Iii Part 17 (1/2)

The bill of fare (as you may well suppose) Was suited to those plentiful old times, Before our modern luxuries arose, With truffles, and ragouts, and various crimes; And, therefore, from the original in prose I shall arrange the catalogue in rhymes: They served up salmon, venison and wild boars By hundreds, and by dozens, and by scores.

Hogsheads of honey, kilderkins of mustard, Muttons, and fatted beeves, and bacon swine; Herons and bitterns, peac.o.c.ks, swan, and bustard, Teal, mallard, pigeons, widgeons, and, in fine.

Plum-puddings, pancakes, apple-pies, and custard, And therewithal they drank good Gascon wine, With mead, and ale, and cider of our own; For porter, punch, and negus were not known.

All sorts of people there were seen together, All sorts of characters, all sorts of dresses; The fool with fox's tail and peac.o.c.k feather, Pilgrims, and penitents, and grave burgesses; The country people with their coats of leather, Vintners and victuallers with cans and messes, Grooms, archers, varlets, falconers, and yeomen, Damsels, and waiting-maids, and waiting-women.

_John Hookham Frere._

_Lullaby._

”Sleep, my little one, Sleep, my pretty one, Sleep.”

_Tennyson._

A CAROL AT THE MANGER.

Lully, lulla, thow littel tine child; By, by, lully, lullay, thow littell tyne child; By, by, lully, lullay.

O sisters too! how may we do, For to preserve this day This pore yongling, for whom we do sing By, by, lully, lullay.

Herod the King, in his raging, Chargid he hath this day His men of might, in his owne sight, All yonge children to slay.

That wo is me, pore child for the!

And ever morne and day, For the parting nether say nor singe By, by, lully, lullay.

_Coventry Mysteries._

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Vision]

A DREAM CAROL.

Ah, my dear Son, said Mary, ah, my dear, Kiss thy mother, Jesu, with a laughing cheer!

This endnes[G] night I saw a sight All in my sleep, Mary, that May, she sung lullay And sore did weep; To keep, she sought, full fast about Her Son from cold.

Joseph said, Wife, my joy, my life, Say what ye would.

Nothing, my spouse, is in this house Unto my pay;[H]

My Son a king, that made all thing, Lieth in hay.

Ah, my dear Son! etc.

My mother dear, amend your cheer And now be still; Thus for to lie it is soothly My Father's will.