A Christmas Rhyme; by Thomas Cooper, the Chartist" (1846); which is inscribed to the Countess of Blessington, and in the advertisement the author offers "but one apology for the production of a metrical essay, composed chiefly of imperfect and immature pieces: The ambition to contribute towards the fund of Christmas entertainment." The scene of the Baron's Yule Feast is depicted in Torksey's Hall, Torksey being one of the first towns in Lincolnshire in the Saxon period. After some introductory verses the writer says: "It is the season when our sires Kept jocund holiday; And, now, around our charier fires, Old Yule shall have a lay:-- A prison-bard is once more free; And, ere he yields his voice to thee, His song a merry-song shall be! Sir Wilfrid de Thorold freely holds What his stout sires held before-- Broad lands for plough and fruitful folds,-- Though by gold he sets no store; And he saith, from fen and woodland wolds From marish, heath, and moor,-- To feast in his hall Both free and thrall, Shall come as they came of yore. * * * * * Now merrily ring the lady-bells Of the nunnery by the Fosse:-- Say the hinds their silver music swells 'Like the blessed angels' syllables, At His birth who bore the cross.' And solemnly swells Saint Leonard's chime And the great bell loud and deep:-- Say the gossips, 'Let's talk of the holy time When the shepherds watched their sheep; And the Babe was born for all souls' crime In the weakness of flesh to weep.'-- But, anon, shrills the pipe of the merry mime And their simple hearts upleap. 'God save your souls, good Christian folk! God save your souls from sin!-- Blythe Yule is come--let us blythely joke!'-- Cry the mummers ere they begin. Then, plough-boy Jack, in kirtle gay,-- Though shod with clouted shoon,-- Stands forth the wilful maid to play Who ever saith to her lover, 'Nay'-- When he sues for a lover's boon. While Hob the smith with sturdy arm Circleth the feigned maid; And, spite of Jack's assumed alarm, Busseth his lips, like a lover warm, And will not 'Nay' be said Then loffe the gossips, as if wit Were mingled with the joke: Gentles,--they were with folly smit,-- Natheless, their memories acquit Of crime--these simple folk! No harmful thoughts their revels blight,-- Devoid of bitter hate and spite, They hold their merriment;-- And, till the chimes tell noon at night, Their joy shall be unspent! Come haste ye to bold Thorold's hall, And crowd his kitchen wide; For there, he saith, both free and thrall Shall sport this good Yule-tide." In subsequent verses the writer depicts the bringing in of the yule log to the Baron's Hall, "Where its brave old heart A glow shall impart To the heart of each guest at the festival. * * * * *