 | The mistletoe |  |
THE MISTLETOE.—
A CHRISTMAS TALE.
BY LAURA MARIA.
A Farmer's Wife, both young and gay,
And fresh as op'ning morn of May!
Had taken to herself a Spouse,
And taken many solemn vows,
That she, a faithful mate would prove,
In meekness, duty, and in love;
That she, despising joy and wealth,
Would be, in sickness and in health,
His only comfort, and his friend—
But mark the sequel, and attend.
And fresh as op'ning morn of May!
Had taken to herself a Spouse,
And taken many solemn vows,
That she, a faithful mate would prove,
In meekness, duty, and in love;
That she, despising joy and wealth,
Would be, in sickness and in health,
His only comfort, and his friend—
But mark the sequel, and attend.
This Farmer, as the story's told,
Was somewhat cross, and somewhat old;
His was the wintry hour of life,
While Summer smil'd before his Wife;
He was both splenetic and crusty,
She, buxom, blooming, blithe, and lusty;
A contrast, rather form'd to cloy
The zest of matrimonial joy!
Was somewhat cross, and somewhat old;
His was the wintry hour of life,
While Summer smil'd before his Wife;
He was both splenetic and crusty,
She, buxom, blooming, blithe, and lusty;
A contrast, rather form'd to cloy
The zest of matrimonial joy!
'Twas Christmas time, the peasant throng
Assembled gay, with dance and song,
The Farmer's kitchin long had been
Of annual sports the busy scene;
The wood fire blaz'd, the chimney wide,
Presented seats on either side;
Long rows of wooden trenchers, clean,
Bedeck'd with holly-houghs, were seen;
The shining tankard's foamy ale
Gave spirits to the goblin tale,
While many a rosy cheek grew pale.
Assembled gay, with dance and song,
The Farmer's kitchin long had been
Of annual sports the busy scene;
The wood fire blaz'd, the chimney wide,
Presented seats on either side;
Long rows of wooden trenchers, clean,
Bedeck'd with holly-houghs, were seen;
The shining tankard's foamy ale
Gave spirits to the goblin tale,
While many a rosy cheek grew pale.
It happen'd that, some sport to shew,
The ceiling held—a mistletoe:
A magic bough, and well design'd
To prove the coyest maiden kind:
A magic bough, which Druids old
In sacred mysteries enroll'd;
And which, or gossip Fame's a liar,
Still warms the soul with vivid fire,
Still promises celestial bliss,—
While bigots snatch their idols kiss.
The Mistletoe was doom'd to be
The talisman of destiny!
Beneath its ample boughs, we're told,
Full many a timid swain grew bold;
Full many a roguish eye askance,
Beheld it with impatient glance;
And many a ruddy cheek confest
The triumphs of the beating breast;
And many a rustic rover sigh'd,
Who ask'd the kiss—and was denied.
The ceiling held—a mistletoe:
A magic bough, and well design'd
To prove the coyest maiden kind:
A magic bough, which Druids old
In sacred mysteries enroll'd;
And which, or gossip Fame's a liar,
Still warms the soul with vivid fire,
Still promises celestial bliss,—
While bigots snatch their idols kiss.
The Mistletoe was doom'd to be
The talisman of destiny!
Beneath its ample boughs, we're told,
Full many a timid swain grew bold;
Full many a roguish eye askance,
Beheld it with impatient glance;
And many a ruddy cheek confest
The triumphs of the beating breast;
And many a rustic rover sigh'd,
Who ask'd the kiss—and was denied.
First Marg'ry smil'd, and gave her lover
A kiss—then thank'd her stars, 'twas over!
Next Kate, with a reluctant pace,
Was led towards the mystic place;
Then Sue, a merry laughing jade,
A dimpled, yielding blush, display'd;
While Joan, her chastity to shew,
Wish'd the “bold knaves wou'd serve her so!
She'd teach the rogues such wanton play,”
And well she could, she knew the way!
A kiss—then thank'd her stars, 'twas over!
Next Kate, with a reluctant pace,
Was led towards the mystic place;
Then Sue, a merry laughing jade,
A dimpled, yielding blush, display'd;
While Joan, her chastity to shew,
Wish'd the “bold knaves wou'd serve her so!
She'd teach the rogues such wanton play,”
And well she could, she knew the way!
The Farmer, mute with jealous care,
Sat sullen in his wicker chair;
Hating the noisy gamesome host,
Yet fearful to resign his post;
He envied all their sportive strife,
But most he watch'd his blooming wife;
And trembled, lest her steps should go,
Incautious, near the Mistletoe.
Sat sullen in his wicker chair;
Hating the noisy gamesome host,
Yet fearful to resign his post;
He envied all their sportive strife,
But most he watch'd his blooming wife;
And trembled, lest her steps should go,
Incautious, near the Mistletoe.
Now Hodge, a youth of rustic grace,
Of form athletic, manly face,
On Mistress Homespun turn'd his eye,
And breath'd a soul-declaring sigh;
Old Homespun mark'd his list'ning fair,
And nestled in his wicker chair;
Hodge swore she might his heart command,
The pipe was dropp'd from Homespun's hand!
Hodge prest her slender waist around,
The Farmer check'd his draught, and frown'd;
And now beneath the Misletoe
'Twas Mistress Homespun's turn to go,
Old Surly shook his wicker chair—
And sternly utter'd,—“Let her dare!”
Of form athletic, manly face,
On Mistress Homespun turn'd his eye,
And breath'd a soul-declaring sigh;
Old Homespun mark'd his list'ning fair,
And nestled in his wicker chair;
Hodge swore she might his heart command,
The pipe was dropp'd from Homespun's hand!
Hodge prest her slender waist around,
The Farmer check'd his draught, and frown'd;
And now beneath the Misletoe
'Twas Mistress Homespun's turn to go,
Old Surly shook his wicker chair—
And sternly utter'd,—“Let her dare!”
Hodge to the Farmer's wife declar'd
Such husbands never should be spar'd;
Swore, they deserv'd the worst disgrace,
That lights upon the wedded race,
And vow'd, that night, he would not go,
Unblest, beneath the Mistletoe.
The merry group all recommend
A harmless kiss, the strife to end:
“Why not?” says Marg'ry, “who would fear
“A dang'rous moment once a year?”
Susan observ'd, that “ancient folks
“Were seldom pleas'd by youthful jokes.”
But Kate, who, till that fatal hour,
Had held o'er Hodge unrivall'd pow'r,
With curving lip, and head aside,
Look'd down, and smil'd in conscious pride,
Then, anxious to conceal her care,
She humm'd—what fools some women are!
Such husbands never should be spar'd;
Swore, they deserv'd the worst disgrace,
That lights upon the wedded race,
And vow'd, that night, he would not go,
Unblest, beneath the Mistletoe.
The merry group all recommend
A harmless kiss, the strife to end:
“Why not?” says Marg'ry, “who would fear
“A dang'rous moment once a year?”
Susan observ'd, that “ancient folks
“Were seldom pleas'd by youthful jokes.”
But Kate, who, till that fatal hour,
Had held o'er Hodge unrivall'd pow'r,
With curving lip, and head aside,
Look'd down, and smil'd in conscious pride,
Then, anxious to conceal her care,
She humm'd—what fools some women are!
Now mistress Homespun, sorely vex'd,
By pride and jealous rage perplex'd;
And angry, that her peevish spouse
Should doubt her matrimonial vows;
But, most of all, resolv'd to make,
An envious rival's bosom ache,
Commanded Hodge to let her go,
Nor lead her near the Mistletoe,
“Why should you ask it o'er and o'er?”
Cried she, “we've been there twice before!”
By pride and jealous rage perplex'd;
And angry, that her peevish spouse
Should doubt her matrimonial vows;
But, most of all, resolv'd to make,
An envious rival's bosom ache,
Commanded Hodge to let her go,
Nor lead her near the Mistletoe,
“Why should you ask it o'er and o'er?”
Cried she, “we've been there twice before!”
'Tis thus, to check a rival's sway,
That women oft themselves betray!
While, vanity alone pursuing,
They rashly prove their own undoing!
That women oft themselves betray!
While, vanity alone pursuing,
They rashly prove their own undoing!
Laura Maria.
| The mistletoe | |