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night, and part of the next day; it was a rhapsody of whatever was sung in the course of the year, at the appropriated festivals, forming altogether the strangest and most ridiculous medley that can be conceived. As it was natural to suppose that the choristers and the congregation should feel thirst in so long a performance, wine was distributed in no sparing manner. The signal for that part of the ceremony was, an anthem commencing, Conductus ad poculum, &c. (Brought to the cup, &c.)

The first evening, after vespers, the Grand Chanter of Sens headed the jolly band in the streets, preceded by an enormous lantern. A vast theatre was prepared for their reception before the church, where they performed not the most decent interludes: the singing and dancing were concluded by throwing a pail of water on the head of the Grand Chanter. They then returned to church to begin the morning office; and, on that occasion, several received on their naked bodies a number of pails of water. At the respective divisions of the service, great care was taken to supply the Ass with drink and provender. In the middle of it, a signal was given by an anthem, Conductus ad tudos (Brought to play, &c.) and the Ass was conducted into the nave of the church, where the people mixed with the clergy, danced round him, and strove to imitate his braying. When the dancing was over, the Ass was brought back again into the choir, where the clergy terminated the festival.

The vespers of the second day concluded with an invitation to dinner, in the form of an anthem, like the rest, Conductus ad prandium (Brought to dinner,) and the festival ended by a repetition of similar theatricals to those which had taken place the day before.

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From the following circumstance may be dated the origin of Christmasboxes, now almost forgotten. The Romish priests had masses said for almost every thing. When a ship went on a voyage, the priests had a box in her under the protection of some saint, and the poor were desired to contribute to this box, that masses might be said for them. This treasury was not to be opened until the ship's return. The mass, at that time, was called Christmas; the box, Christmas-box, or money collected against that time, that the priests might say masses to the saints, and entreat the forgiveness of the debaucheries of the people at this season; and from this, servants had the liberty to get box-money, that they, too, might be enabled to pay the priest for his masses, knowing well the old proverb, No penny, no paternoster.'

A thrift-box, as it is vulgarly called, is still retained in barber's shops in the North, being put up against the wall, and every customer contributing.

The Carols, formerly sung at this season of the year, were festal chansons for enlivening the merriments of the Christmas celebrity; and not such religious songs as are current at this day, with the common people, under the same title, and which were substituted by those enemies of innocent and useful mirth, the Puritans. The BOAR'S HEAD, soused, was antiently the first dish on Christmas-day, and was carried up to the principal table in the hall, with great state and solemnity, a carol being sung at the time.

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Chatterton gives a lively description of Christmas as it was, in olden time. The antient Christinas gambols,' says the poet, were, in my opinion, supe rior to our modern spectacles and amusements; wrestling, hurling the What is the most extraordinary fact ball, and dancing in the wood-lands, of all, and indeed barely within the were pleasures for men. It is true, the limits of credibility, is, that this most conversation of the hearth-side was the shameful festival was not suppressed tales of superstition; the fairies, Robin till towards the end of the sixteenth Goodfellow, and hobgoblins, never century! Some of its most shocking failed to make the trembling audience absurdities had, indeed, been removed, yet the custom was continued.

• Strange as it may appear, this asinine festival was annually celebrated in England, in the Cathe 2B ATHENEUM. Vol. 4.

utter an avemaria, and cross their chins;

dral of Lincoln, till the Eleventh Century; when Grosthead, the bishop, ordered his deans to abolish the Festum Asinorum, cum sit vanitate plenum et voluptatibus purcum, See also Corpus Christi, at p. 100, Vol. 3, Ath.

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but the laughable exercises of blindman's buff, riddling, and question and command, sufficiently compensated for the few sudden starts of terror. Add

to these amusements the wretched voices of the chanters and sub-chanters; howling carols in Latin; the chiming of consecrated bells; the burning consecrated wax candles; curiously representing the Virgin Mary; praying to the saint whose monastery stood nearest; the munching consecrated cross-loaves sold by the monks; all which effectually eradicated the spectres of their terrific stories. Nor were these the only charms against the foul-fiends and nightmare; sleeping cross-legged, like the effigies of Knights Templars and warriors, and the holy bush and church-yard yew, were certain antidotes against those invisible beings.

The lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of post and pair.'
All hailed, with uncontrolled delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.

(VOL. 4

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
Went roaring up the chimney wide;
The huge hall-table's oaken face,
Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the 'squire and lord.
Then was brought in the lusty brawn
By old blue-coated serving-man ;
Then the grim boar's head frowned on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary,
Well can the green-garbed ranger tell
How, when, and where, the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.
The wassel round in good brown bowls,
Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls,
There the huge sirloin reeked ; hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie,
Nor failed old Scotland to produce,
At such high tide, her savoury goose.
Then came the merry masquers in,
And carols roared with blithesome din;
If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note, and strong.
Who lists, may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery;

White shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made;
But O! what masquers richly dight
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England, when
Old Christmas brought his sports again,
'Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale
'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man's heart thro' half the year.

The great barons and knights generally kept open houses during this season, when their villains or vassals were entertained with bread, beef, and beer, and a pudding, wastol-cake, or Christmas kitchel, and a groat in silver at parting; being obliged to wave the full flagon round their heads, in honour of the master of the house. Plays were performed by the monks; the plot being, generally, the life of some Pope, or the founder of the abbey to which the monks belonged. Private exhibitions at the manors of the barons were usually family histories; minstrels, jesters, and mummers, composed the next class of performers, who were maintained in the castle of the baron, to the Sanhedrin, or Jewish Council, for entertain his family. prophecying the fall of the Jewish Tem

SAINT STEPHEN, DECEMBER 26. Stephen was the first deacon chosen by the apostles. He was cited before

The Meteor of the North' has ple and economy; and while vindicapainted a vivid but faithful portrait of ting his doctrine by several passages of antient Christmas ceremonies, and with the Old Testament, he was violently all the minute accuracy and high finish- carried out of the city, and stoned to death, in the ing of a Gerhard Douw: 33. year See Acts vii. for his admirable defence.

On Christmas eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas eve the mass was sung ;
That only night, in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dressed with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go.
To gather in the mistletoe.
Then opened wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doffed his pride.
'The heir, with roses in his shoes.
Might that night village partner choose;

W. 1. ROBERTS DIED, DEC. 26, 1806

EPITAPH.

Pilgrim! if youth's seductive bloom
Thy soul in pleasure's vest arrays,
Pause at this sad and silent tomb,

And learn how swift thy bliss decays!
But, ah! if woe has stabbed thy breast,
And dimmed with tears thy youthful eye,
Mourner, the grave's a house of rest,
And this one teaches how to die!
For' she who sleeps this stone beneath,
Tho' many an hour to pain was given,

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While Hope displayed the joys of Heaven! See Roberts's Poems and Letters, p. 9, a pleasing companion to the Remains of Kirke White. The author died at the early age of twenty!

INNOCENTS, DECEMBER 28. The slaughter of the Jewish children, by Herod, is commemorated this day. The festival is very antient, for Tertullian and Saint Cyprian call these Innocents martyrs, and Prudentius has written a hymn upon the subject. Childermas day is another name for this feast.-This day is observed by the Jews on account of Jehoiakim's burning the scroll that the Prophet Baruch wrote from the mouth of Jeremiah.

From the New Monthly Magazine, Sept. 1818. ORIGINAL LETTER AND POEM, BY ROBERT BURNS.

She heard the tidings of the fatal blow,
And sunk abandoned to the wildest woe,
Wrongs, injuries, from many a darksome den,
Now gay in hope explore the path of men.
See, from his cavern, grim Oppression rise,
And throw on Poverty his cruel eyes;
Keen on the helpless vietim see him fly,

View unsuspecting Innocence a prey:

203

And stifle, dark, the feebly-bursting cry
Mark ruffian Violence, distained with crimes,
Reusing elate in these degenerate times :
As guileful Fraud points out the erring way ;
While subtle Litigation's pliant tongue
The life-blood equal sucks of Right and Wrong:
Hark, injured Want recounts the unlisten'd tale,
And much-wronged Misery pours the unpitied wait!
Ye dark waste hills, and brown unsightly plains,
Inspire and soothe my melancholy strains!
Ye tempests rage! ye turbid torrents roll!
Ye suit the joyless tenor of my soul:
Life's social haunts and pleasures I resign;
Be nameless wilds and lonely wanderings mine.
To mourn the woes my Country must endure,-
That wound degenerate ages cannot cure.

ANECDOTE OF BONAPARTE.

(No date, but supposed Nov. or Dec. 1787.) SIR, The enclosed poem was writNapoleon, when at Dresden, comten in consequence of your suggestion, plained to Maria-Louisa of the conduct last time I had the pleasure of seeing of her mother-in-law and the Archdukes, you. It cost me an hour or two of next and having manifested considerable dismorning's sleep, but did not please me ; satisfaction, he added : · As to the Emso it lay by, an ill-digested effort, till the peror, I say nothing of him, he is a garother day that I gave it a critic brush, ache' (a stupid fellow). Maria-Louisa These kind of subjects are much hack- did not understand this expression, and neyed; and besides, the wailings of the as soon as Napoleon withdrew, she askrhyming tribe over the ashes of the great ed her attendants what it meant. As are cursedly suspicious, and out of all none of the ladies could venture to excharacter for sincerity. These ideas plain its real signification, they told her damped my muse's fire; however I that the word was used to designate a have done the best I could, and, at all serious reflecting man. The Empress events, it gives me an opportunity of forgot neither the term nor the definideclaring that I have the honour to be, tion, and she some time afterwards apSir, Your obliged humble servant, plied it in a very amusing way. DurROBERT BURNS, ing the time she was intrusted with the regency of the French empire, an inportant question one day came under discussion at the council of state. Having remarked that Cambaceres did not utter a word, she turned towards him and said, I should like to have your opinion on this business, sir, for I know you are a ganache.' At this compliment, Cambaceres stared with astonishment and consternation, while he repeated in a low tone of voice the word ganache. 'Yes,' replied the empress, a ganache, a serious thinking sort of a man ; is not that the meaning of it?'-No one made any reply, and the discussion proceeded.

Monday Morning.

To Charles Hay, Esq. Advocate.

On the Death of the late Lord President.
Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks
Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks;
Down foam the rivulets, red with dashing rains;
The gathering floods burst o'er the distant plains;
Beneath the blasts the leafless forests groan ;
The hollow caves return a sullen moan.
Ye hills, ye plains, ye forests, and ye caves,
Ye howling winds and wintry-swelling waves ;
Unheard, unseen, by human ear or eye,
Sad to your sympathetic glooms I fly.
Where to the whistling blast, and waters' roar,
Pale Scotia's recent wound may I deplore.
O heavy loss my country ill could bear!
A loss these evil days can ne'er repair!
Justice, the high vicegerent of her God,
Her doubtful balance ey'd, and sway'd her rod ;

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Varieties-Original Anecdotes.

[VOL. 4 Great events spring from little causes, tor. The Count consented; the Serand of this the following is an instance: vant mounted behind the carriage, and We are told that before the battle let his horse go, which was soon seized of Leipsic, negociations for peace were by the wolves, and torn into a thousand carried on at Dresden, the preliminaries pieces. Meantime the travellers proceedwere even agreed upon, and this extra ed with all the speed they could, in ordinary man had actually the pen in hopes to reach the town, from which his hand to sign them when a few im- they were not very distant. But the prudent words from the Duke de Bassa- horses were tired, and the wolves, beno suddenly changed his determination. come more savage now they had tasted Sire,' said the duke, as he presented blood,had almost overtaken the carriage. to the Emperor the pen which was to In this extreme necessity, the Servant ensure the tranquillity of Europe, for cried out, "There is only one means once it may be said that you do not of deliverance: I will go to meet the give peace, but that you receive it.' wolves, if you will swear to me to proWhether the duke had any secret mo- vide as a father for my wife and chiltives for wishing for the continuance of dren. I must perish; but while they the war, or whether he suffered these fall upon me, you will escape." Podotwords to escape him without reflecting sky hesitated to comply; but as there on their fatal consequences, it is impos- was no prospect of escape, he consented, sible to decide; be this as it may, the and solemnly vowed, that if he would Emperor at that moment fancied he sacrifice himself for their safety, he saw all the glory of his life eclipsed, and would constantly provide for his family. he threw down the pen in a fit of anger, The Servant immediately got down, declaring that he would sign nothing went to meet the wolves, and was deThe battle of Leipsic took place a few voured! The Count reached the gates days after, and it was followed by the of Zator, and was saved.-The Serdefection of his allies. Napoleon was vant was a Protestant; his Master a obliged to quit Germany with the same Catholic, and conscientiously kept his precipitation as he had fled from Rus- word. sia ; and he was only enabled to reach Mentz, through the devotion of his guards, who suffered themselves to be cut to pieces for the sake of covering his

retreat.

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Archbishop of York, was very fond of a Clerical Wit.-Sir William Dawes, pun. His clergy dining with him, for the first time after he had lost his lady, he told them, he feared they did not Remarkable instance of fidelity in a used to be in the time of poor Mary, find things in so good order as they Servant. In the winter of the year and, looking extremely sorrowful, ad1776, the Count and Countess Podot- ded, with a deep sigh," She was, insky being on their way from Vienna to deed, Mare pacificum!" A Curate, Cracow, the wolves, which are very nu- who pretty well knew what she had merous in the Carpathian mountains, been, called out, and when the cold is very severe are she was Mare mortuum first." The Ay, my Lord, but more bold and savage than usual, came Archbishop gave him a living of 2001. down in hordes, and pursued the car- per annum within two months. riage between the towns of Oswiesk and Zator, the latter of which is only a few through one of the principal streets of A modern wit passing with a friend leagues from Cracow. Of two servants, the metropolis, and observing the name one was sent before, to bespeak post- of Farthing over a shop door, said to horses the other, whom the Count par- his companion, ticularly esteemed for his fidelity, see- wife ought to be hanged for coining." "That man and his ing the wolves come nearer and nearer, begged his master to permit him to a farthing make a halfpenny!" Why so?' "Because a farthing and leave them his horse, by which their your mind at ease, replied bis friend, rage would in some measure be satisfied, the crime carries its own punishmentand they should gain time to reach Za- they are liable to be transported!'

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VOL. 4]

Original Poetry.

205

POETRY.

T

From the London Monthly Magazines.

STANZAS ON LOVE.

It is not Love, when burning sighs

Heave forth the heart's impassion'd anguish ;

When the cheeks kindle, and the eyes

On their bright idol, fix and languish.
It is not Love, when heart and mind

Are troubled like the stormy ocean;
When the press'd hands, convulsive join'd
Thrill ev'ry pulse with wild emotion.
It is not Love, when madd'ning bliss
Suspends the faculties of reason;
'Tis baleful passion urges this,

And acts tow'rds Love the foulest treason.

Love breathes in peace, and hope and joy; Love only sighs when absence parteth : Its trust, no fancied ills destroy;

No jealous fear its bosom smarteth.

From the stol'n glance, half-veil'd and meek,
Love's fondest, truest feeling breaketh;

It speaks in blushes on the cheek,
Soft as when summer morning waketh.

In heart 'tis as the Christian's faith,

A

There is one whose face my being
Finds redoubled life in seeing;
Who, with seraph smile, inspires
Gentle love and genial fires.

Fairy is her form of lightness,
Azure is her eye of brightness,
Snowy is her brow ;---above it
Wreathe the auburn curls that love it,
Sweetly twining and invading
Rosy cheeks that need not shading:
Blush not at my telling thee,
Oh my love! that thou art she!

MELANCHOLY.

From the same.

THE sun of the morning,

Unclouded and bright,
The landscape adorning
With lustre and light,
To glory and gladness

New bliss may impart :
But, ob! give to sadness

And softness of heart

moment to ponder, a season to grieve,

M.

Changeless and sacred---chaste---desiring; The light of the moon, or the shadows of eve!

Decay it knows not ;---and in death,

Dies, but as life's last sighs expiring. 3, Durham-Place, Chelsea.

BB

W. P.

New Mon. Mag. Sept. 1818.

THE CONFESSION.

From the same.

ID the cold and callous-hearted
Brood o'er bliss he ne'er imparted;
Let him lager, let bim languish
In his sordid, selfish anguish :
Not a sun his soul shall borrow,
To dispel his night of sorrow;
And a something shall annoy,
With a dread, his dreams of joy.
He knows not the blissful union
Souls partake by soft communion;
He knows not the pleasing sadness
Less allied to grief than gladness
Which the pensive heart is proving,
When its life consists in loving;
As congenial pulses beat
With a mild and mutual beat.

He who can despise thee, woman!
Must be more or less than human :
On his heart a frost is seizing,
In his veins the blood is freezing :---
If thou canst not, what can move it?
But his coldness none will covet;
Not a bosom shall condole
With his poor and paltry soul.
Some may say thine eyes are cheating,
Some may say thy love is flting,
Some may say---but I believe not;
Well I know thy smiles deceive not.

Then soothing reflections
Arise on the mind;
And sweet recollections

Of friends who were kind;
Of love that was tender,

And yet could decay;
Of visions whose splendour

Time withered away;

In all that for brightness and beauty may seem
The painting of fancy--the work of a dream!

The soft cloud of whiteness,
The stars beaming through,
The pure moon of brightness,
The deep sky of blue,
The rush of the river

Through vales that are still,
The breezes that ever

Sigh lone o'er the hill,

Are sounds that can soften, and sights that

impart

A bliss to the eye, and a balm to the heart.

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