The Queen of May takes her position on the left. She is dressed in a robe of pure white, festooned with flowers, with a garland of white roses twined with evergreen upon her brow. In her hand is held the May-pole, adorned with ribbons of white, and blue, and red, alternately wrapped around it, and surmounted with a wreath of various flowers. As she assumes her place, showers of roses descend from above, envelope her in their bloom, and shed a fresh fragrance around the room. The Genius of Liberty points out the approaching figures to the Puritan, and exclaims: “Welcome, ye happy children of the earth, Who strew life's weary way with guileless mirth! Thus Joy should ever herald in the morn On which the Saviour of the world was born, And thus with rapture should we ever bring Fresh flowers to twine around the brow of Spring. Think not, stern mortal, God delights to scan, With fiendish joy, the miseries of man; Think not the groans that rend your bosom here Are music to Jehovah's listening ear. Formed by His power, the children of His love, Man's happiness delights the Sire above; While the light mirth which from his spirit springs Ascends like incense to the King of kings.” Christmas, yawning and stretching himself, then roars out in a merry, lusty voice: “My spirit rejoices to hear merry voices, With a prospect of breaking my fast, For with such a lean platter, these days they call latter[34] Were very near being my last. “In that cursed conventicle, as chill as an icicle, I caught a bad cold in my head, And some impudent vassal stole all of my wassail, And left me small beer in its stead. “Of all that is royal and all that is loyal They made a nice mess of mince-meat. With their guns and gunpowder, and their prayers that are louder, But the de'il a mince-pie did I eat. “No fat sirloin carving, I scarce kept from starving, And my bones have become almost bare, As if I were the season of the gunpowder treason, To be hallowed with fasting and prayer. “If they fancy pulse diet, like the Jews they may try it, Though I think it is fit but to die on. But may the Emanuel long keep this new Daniel From the den of the brave British Lion. “In the juice of the barley I'll drink to King Charley, The bright star of royalty risen, While merry maids laughing and honest men quaffing Shall welcome old Christmas from prison.” As he thunders out the last stave of his song, the Queen of May steps forward, and sings the following welcome to Spring: “Come with blooming cheek, Aurora, Leading on the merry morn; Come with rosy chaplets, Flora, See, the baby Spring is born. “Smile and sing each living creature, Britons, join me in the strain; Lo! the Spring is come to Nature, Come to Albion's land again.