Candlemas-day, and all her life kept the piece of candle for a relic; and all they that were touched therewith were healed of their maladies and sicknesses. * * * * * Poetry is the history of ancient times. We know little of the times sung by Homer but from his verses. To Herrick we must confess our obligation for acquaintance with some of the manners pertaining to this “great day in the calendar.” Perhaps, had he not written, we should be ignorant that our forefathers fared more daintily during the Christmas holidays than at other seasons; be unaware of the rule for setting out the due quantum of time, and orderly succession, to Christmas ever-greens; and live, as most of us have lived, but ought not to live longer, without being informed, that the Christmas-log may be burnt until this day, and must be quenched this night till Christmas comes again. _Candlemas Eve._ End now the white-loafe and the pye, And let all sports with Christmas dye. * * * * * Kindle the Christmas Brand, and then Till sunne-set let it burne, Which quencht, then lay it up agen, Till Christmas next returne. Part must be kept wherewith to teend The Christmas Log next yeare, And where ’tis safely kept, the fiend Can do no mischiefe there. _Herrick._ How severely he enjoins the removal of the last greens of the old year, and yet how essential is his reason for their displacement: _Candlemas Eve._ Down with the Rosemary, and so Down with the Baies and Misletoe; Down with the Holly, Ivie, all Wherewith ye drest the Christmas Hall; That so the superstitious find No one least Branch there left behind: For look, how many leaves there be Neglected there, maids, trust to me, So many goblins you shall see. _Herrick._ Hearken to the gay old man again, and participate in his joyous anticipations of pleasure from the natural products of the new year. His next little poem is a collyrium for the mind’s eye: _Ceremonies for Candlemasse Eve._ Down with the Rosemary and Bayes, Down with the Misleto; Instead of Holly, now up-raise The greener Box (for show.) The Holly hitherto did sway; Let Box now domineere, Untill the dancing Easter-day, On Easter’s Eve appeare. Then youthful Box, which now hath grace, Your houses to renew, Grown old, surrender must his place Unto the crisped Yew. When Yew is out, then Birch comes in, And many Flowers beside, Both of a fresh and fragrant kinne, To honour Whitsuntide. Green Bushes then, and sweetest Bents, With cooler Oken boughs, Come in for comely ornaments To re-adorn the house. Thus times do shift; each thing his turne do’s hold; New things succeed, as former things grow old. _Herrick._