Marmion

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH.

TO RICHARD HEBER, ESQ.

Mertoun-House, Christmas.

Heap on more wood!-the wind is chill; 
But let it whistle as it will, 
We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.

Each age has deem’d the new-born year 
The fittest time for festal cheer:     
Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane 
At Iol more deep the mead did drain; 
High on the beach his galleys drew, 
And feasted all his pirate crew;

Then in his low and pine-built hall,     
Where shields and axes deck’d the wall, 
They gorged upon the half-dress’d steer; 
Caroused in seas of sable beer;

While round, in brutal jest, were thrown 
The half-gnaw’d rib, and marrow-bone,   
Or listen’d all, in grim delight, 
While scalds yell’d out the joys of fight.

Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie, 
While wildly-loose their red locks fly, 
And dancing round the blazing pile,     
They make such barbarous mirth the while, 
As best might to the mind recall 
The boisterous joys of Odin’s hall. 

  And well our Christian sires of old 
Loved when the year its course had roll’d, 
And brought blithe Christmas back again, 
With all his hospitable train.

Domestic and religious rite 
Gave honour to the holy night; 
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 donn’d her kirtle sheen; 
The hall was dress’d with holly green; 
Forth to the wood did merry-men go, 
To gather in the mistletoe.

Then open’d wide the Baron’s hall 
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all; 
Power laid his rod of rule aside, 
And Ceremony doff’d his pride.

The heir, with roses in his shoes, 
That night might village partner choose; 
The Lord, underogating, share 
The vulgar game of ‘post and pair.’

All hail’d, with uncontroll’d delight, 
And general voice, the happy night, 
That to the cottage, as the crown, 
Brought tidings of salvation down. 

  The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 
Went roaring up the chimney wide: 
The huge hall-table’s oaken face, 
Scrubb’d 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 frown’d on high, 
Crested with bays and rosemary.

Well can the green-garb’d ranger tell, 
How, when, and where, the monster fell; 
What dogs before his death he tore,