They pile the Yule-log on the hearth,-- Soak toasted crabs in ale; And while they sip, their homely mirth Is joyous as if all the earth For man were void of bale! And why should fears for future years, Mix jolly ale with thoughts of tears When in the horn 'tis poured? And why should ghost of sorrow fright The bold heart of an English knight When beef is on the board? De Thorold's guests are wiser than The men of mopish lore; For round they push the smiling can And slice the plattered store. And round they thrust the ponderous cheese, And the loaves of wheat and rye; None stinteth him for lack of ease-- For each a stintless welcome sees In the Baron's blythesome eye. The Baron joineth the joyous feast-- But not in pomp or pride; He smileth on the humblest guest So gladsomely--all feel that rest Of heart which doth abide Where deeds of generousness attest The welcome of the tongue professed Is not within belied." * * * * * In subsequent verses a stranger minstrel appears on the festive scene, and tells his tale of love in song, acquitting himself "So rare and gentle, that the hall Rings with applause which one and all Render who share the festival." [Illustration] Some of the poets of this period have dealt playfully with the festivities of Christmastide, as, for example, Laman Blanchard (1845) in the following effusion:-- CHRISTMAS CHIT-CHAT. In a Large Family Circle.