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    In The Yule-Log Glow—Book 3 Christmas Poems from 'round the World
    In The Yule-Log Glow—Book 3 Christmas Poems from 'round the World
    In The Yule-Log Glow—Book 3 Christmas Poems from 'round the World
    Ebook262 pages1 hour

    In The Yule-Log Glow—Book 3 Christmas Poems from 'round the World

    By Harrison S. (Harrison Smith) Morris

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    In The Yule-Log Glow—Book 3 Christmas Poems from 'round the World

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      Book preview

      In The Yule-Log Glow—Book 3 Christmas Poems from 'round the World - Harrison S. (Harrison Smith) Morris

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Yule-Log Glow--Book 3, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: In The Yule-Log Glow--Book 3

      Christmas Poems from 'round the World

      Author: Various

      Editor: Harrison S. Morris

      Release Date: February 15, 2007 [EBook #20586]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE YULE-LOG GLOW--BOOK 3 ***

      Produced by Sam W., Jason Isbell and the Online Distributed

      Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      IN THE

      YULE-LOG GLOW

      CHRISTMAS POEMS FROM

      'ROUND THE WORLD

      Sic as folk tell ower at a winter ingle

      Scott

      EDITED BY

      HARRISON S. MORRIS

      THREE VOLUMES IN ONE.

      Book III.

      PHILADELPHIA

      J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

      1900.

      Copyright, 1891, by J. B. Lippincott Company.

      Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia.

      BETWEEN THE TALE-TELLING.

      Fancy, if you will, Gentle Reader, that, between the intervals of tale-telling,—the Yule-log still ruddy upon the visages of your fellow-guests from many lands,—fancy that a quiet traveller draws out of his side-pocket a little, well-worn pair of books from which he reads some scrap of verse or some melodious Christmas poem. Fancy, too, that, beneath the inn windows, in the snow outside, an occasional band of the Waits strikes up an ancient carol with voice and horn, begging, when the music is done, admittance to the glowing warmth within doors and a share in the plenteous cakes and ale.

      Imagine this, if you will, and choose, from the pages to come, whatever of old or new will fit well into the conceit; for not a few carols or legends lie there which have done service under the snow-covered gables or by the crackling wood, and which will help, with their quaint heartiness or simple beauty, to realize the charm of Christmas the world around,—that charm which flows from hearty and generous good-will towards men; which has for its inner light the kindly desire for peace on earth.

      ILLUSTRATIONS, BOOK III.

      CONTENTS OF BOOK III.

      FOOTNOTES:

      [A] By the courtesy of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

      [B] By the courtesy of The Century Company.

      [C] By the courtesy of Messrs. Funk & Wagnalls.

      Legends in Song.

      "Tell sweet old tales,

      Sing songs as we sit bending o'er the hearth,

      Till the lamp flickers and the memory fails."

      Frederick Tennyson.

      THE HALLOWED TIME.

      Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes

      Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

      The bird of dawning singeth all night long;

      And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;

      The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,

      No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,

      So hallowed and so gracious is the time.

      Shakespeare.

      ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.

      This is the month, and this the happy morn,

      Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King,

      Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,

      Our great redemption from above did bring;

      For so the holy sages once did sing,

      That he our deadly forfeit should release,

      And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.

      That glorious form, that light insufferable,

      And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,

      Wherewith he wont at heaven's high council-table

      To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,

      He laid aside; and, here with us to be,

      Forsook the courts of everlasting day,

      And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.

      Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein

      Afford a present to the Infant-God?

      Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain

      To welcome him to this his new abode,

      Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod,

      Hath took no print of the approaching light,

      And all the spangled host kept watch in squadron bright?

      See, how from far, upon the eastern road,

      The star-led wizards haste with odors sweet;

      O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,

      And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;

      Have thou the honor first thy Lord to greet,

      And join thy voice unto the angel-quire,

      From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.

      THE HYMN.

      It was the winter wild,

      While the heaven-born Child

      All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;

      Nature in awe to him,

      Had doff'd her gaudy trim,

      With her great Master so to sympathize:

      It was no season then for her

      To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.

      Only with speeches fair

      She woos the gentle air

      To hide her guilty front with innocent snow;

      And on her naked shame,

      Pollute with sinful blame,

      The saintly veil of maiden-white to throw;

      Confounded, that her Maker's eyes

      Should look so near upon her foul deformities.

      But he, her fears to cease,

      Sent down the meek-eyed Peace;

      She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding

      Down through the turning sphere,

      His ready Harbinger,

      With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;

      And, waving wide her myrtle wand,

      She strikes an universal peace through sea and land.

      No war, or battle's sound

      Was heard the world around;

      The idle spear and shield were high up-hung;

      The hooked chariot stood

      Unstain'd with hostile blood;

      The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;

      And kings sat still with awful eye,

      As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by.

      But peaceful was the night

      Wherein the Prince of Light

      His reign of peace upon the earth began:

      The winds, with wonder whist,

      Smoothly the waters kist,

      Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,

      Who now hath quite forgot to rave,

      While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.

      The stars, with deep amaze,

      Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,

      Bending one way their precious influence;

      And will not take their flight,

      For all the morning light,

      Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;

      But in their glimmering orbs did glow,

      Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.

      And, though the shady gloom

      Had given day her room,

      The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,

      And hid his head for shame,

      As his inferior flame

      The new-enlighten'd world no more should need.

      He saw a greater Sun appear

      Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear.

      The shepherds on the lawn,

      Or e'er the point of dawn,

      Sat simply chatting in a rustic row;

      Full little thought they then

      That the mighty Pan

      Was kindly come to live with them below;

      Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,

      Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.

      When such music sweet

      Their hearts and ears did greet,

      As never was by mortal fingers strook;

      Divinely-warbled voice

      Answering the stringed noise,

      As all their souls in blissful rapture took;

      The air, such pleasure loth to lose,

      With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.

      Nature that heard such sound,

      Beneath the hollow round

      Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling,

      Now was almost won

      To think her part was done,

      And that her reign had here its last fulfilling;

      She knew such harmony alone

      Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union.

      At last surrounds their sight

      A globe of circular light,

      That with long beams the shame-faced night array'd;

      The helmed cherubim,

      And sworded seraphim,

      Are seen in glittering

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