The public, who are willing to pay for the production of thousands of volumes annually, the value of which is inappreciable from its littleness, may perhaps not be unwilling to encourage, to the extent of the purchase of a small edition, the preservation in print of a relic which, even in the mere commonplace power of giving amusement, exceeds the majority of circulating novels: while readers whose appetites are more discriminating, and the students of the past, to whom the productions of their ancestors have a memorial value for themselves, may find their taste gratified at least with some fragments of genuine beauty equal to the best extant specimens of early English poetry. In the hope of contributing to such a result, I am going to offer to the readers of Fraser a few miscellaneous selections from different parts of the volume; and as in the original they are thrown together without order--the sacred side by side with the profane; the devotional, the humorous, and the practical reposing in placid juxtaposition--I shall not attempt to remedy a disorder which is itself so characteristic a feature. Let us commence, then, as a fitting grace before the banquet, with a song on the Nativity. The spirit which appears in many of the most beautiful pictures of mediaeval art is here found taking the form of words:-- Can I not sing Ut Hoy, When the Jolly shepherd made so much joy. The shepherd upon a hill he sat, He had on him his tabard and his hat; His tar-box, his pipe, and his flat hat, His name was called Jolly, Jolly Wat, For he was a good herd's boy, Ut Hoy, For in his pipe he made so much joy. The shepherd upon a hill was laid, His dogge to his girdle was tied; He had not slept but a little brayd When Gloria in Excelsis to him was said. Ut Hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. The shepherd upon a hill he stood, Round about him his sheep they yode; He put his hand under his hood, He saw a star as red as blood, Ut Hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. Now Farewell, Matt, and also Will, For my love go ye all still Unto I come again you till, And evermore Will ring well thy bell; Ut Hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. Now I must go where Christ was born; Farewell! I come again to morn: Dog keep will my sheep from the corn, And warn well warrock when I blow my horn, Ut Hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. When Wat to Bethlehem come was, He swat: he had gone faster than a pace. He found Jesu in a simple place, Between an oxe and an asse; Ut Hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. Jesu! I offer to thee here my pipe, My skirt, my tar-box, and my scrip; Home to my fellows now will I skippe, And also look unto my shepe, Ut Hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. Now Farewell, myne own Herdsman Watt; Yea, for God, Lady, and even so I had; Lull well Jesu in thy lappe, And farewell, Joseph, with thy gown and cap; Ut Hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy.