The mutual nod,—the grave disguise
Of hearts with gladness brimming o’er;
And some unbidden tears that rise
For names once heard, and heard no more:
Tears brightened by the serenade,
For infant in the cradle laid!
Ah! not for emerald fields alone,
With ambient streams more pure and bright
Than fabled Cytherea’s zone
Glittering before the Thunderer’s sight,
Is to my heart of hearts endeared
The ground where we were born and reared!
Hail! ancient Manners! sure defence,
Where they survive, of wholesome laws;
Remnants of love whose modest sense
Thus into narrow room withdraws;
Hail, Usages of pristine mould,
And ye, that guard them, Mountains old!
Christmas-day then is come! and with it begins a heartfelt season of social delight, and interchanges of kindred enjoyments. In large houses are large parties, music and feasting, dancing and cards. Beautiful faces and noble forms, the most fair and accomplished of England’s sons and daughters, beautify the ample firesides of aristocratic halls. Senators and judges, lawyers and clergymen, poets and philosophers, there meet in cheerful and even sportive ease, amid the elegances of polished life. In more old-fashioned, but substantial country abodes, old-fashioned hilarity prevails. In the farm-house hearty spirits are met. Here are dancing and feasting too; and often blindman’s-buff, turn-trencher, and some of the simple games of the last age remain. In all families, except the families of the poor, who seem too much forgotten at this, as at other times in this refined age, there are visits paid and received; parties going out, or coming in; and everywhere abound, as indispensable to the season, mince-pies, and wishes for “a merry Christmas and a happy New-Year.”
It is only in the more primitive parts of the country that the olden customs remain. The Christmas carols which were sung about from door to door, for a week at least, not twenty years ago, are rarely heard now in the midland counties. More northward, from the hills of Derbyshire, and the bordering ones of Staffordshire, up through Lancashire, Yorkshire, Northumberland, and Durham, you may frequently meet with them. The late Mrs. Fletcher (Miss Jewsbury) one of the most highly-gifted, both in talents and principle, of those who are early lost to the world, collected a volume of such as are sung in the neighbourhood of Manchester, and presented it to Mrs. Howitt. Amongst them are many of the most ancient, such as—“Under the Leaves, or the Seven Virgins,” beginning—
All under the leaves, and the leaves of life,
I met with virgins seven;
And one of them was Mary mild,
Our Lord’s Mother in Heaven.
“The Moon shone bright,”—beginning with
The moon shone bright, and the stars gave a light
A little before it was day,
The Lord our God he called to us,
And bade us awake and pray.
Awake, awake, good people all,
Awake and you shall hear,
Our blessed Lord died on the cross
For us whom he loved so dear;
and ending thus—