And in Loves Labours Lost, Act v. sc. 1—
Thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.
It is a kind of game, in which brandy is poured over a large dish full of raisins, and then set alight. The object is to snatch the raisins out of the flame and devour them without burning oneself. This can be managed by sharply seizing them, and shutting the mouth at once. It is suggested that the name is derived from the German schnapps, spirit, and drache, dragon.
Bishop Jeremy Taylor very appropriately said that the first Christmas carol was sung by the angels at the Nativity of our Saviour—"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth Peace, Goodwill toward men." No man knows when the custom began of singing carols, or hymns on Christmas day in honour of the Nativity; but there can be no doubt that it was of very ancient date in the English Church, and that it has been an unbroken custom to this day, when the practice is decidedly on the increase, as may be judged from the many collections of ancient carols, and of modern ones as well. It would be impossible for me to give anything like a representative collection of Christmas carols, because of space, but I venture to reproduce a few old ones, and first, perhaps the oldest we have, an Anglo-Norman carol, which is in the British Museum, and with it I give Douce's very free translation. It will be seen by this that all carols were not of a religious kind, but many were songs appropriate to the festive season:—
Translation.
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Now, lordings, listen to our ditty, Strangers coming from afar; Let poor minstrels move your pity, Give us welcome, soothe our care: In this mansion, as they tell us, Christmas wassell keeps to-day; And, as the king of all good fellows, Reigns with uncontrouled sway. Lordings, in these realms of pleasure, Father Christmas yearly dwells; Deals out joy with liberal measure, Gloomy sorrow soon dispels: Numerous guests, and viands dainty, Fill the hall and grace the board; Mirth and beauty, peace and plenty, Solid pleasures here afford. Lordings, 'tis said the liberal mind, That on the needy much bestows, From Heav'n a sure reward shall find; From Heav'n, whence ev'ry blessing flows. Who largely gives with willing hand, Or quickly gives with willing heart, His fame shall spread throughout the land, His mem'ry thence shall ne'er depart. Lordings, grant not your protection To a base unworthy crew, But cherish, with a kind affection, Men that are loyal, good, and true. Chase from your hospitable dwelling Swinish souls that ever crave; Virtue they can ne'er excel in, Gluttons never can be brave. Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking. Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou, English ale that drives out thinking, Prince of liquors, old or new. Every neighbour shares the bowl, Drinks of the spicy liquor deep, Drinks his fill without controul, Till he drowns his care in sleep. And now—by Christmas, jolly soul! By this mansion's generous sieur! By the wine, and by the bowl, And all the joys they both inspire! Here I'll drink a health to all: The glorious task shall first be mine: And ever may foul luck befall Him that to pledge me shall decline. |