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Read Ebook: Lyrics & Legends of Christmas-Tide by Scollard Clinton
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Ebook has 1109 lines and 41169 words, and 23 pages
The Christmas Angel
Nazareth Town
Nazareth town in Galilee! Set where the paths lead up from the sea That like the chords of a mighty lyre Dirges over the rocks of Tyre, Mourns where the piers of Sidon shone, And the battlements cinctured Ascalon. They have waned as the sunset wanes; Little more than a name remains; But more than a name we hold it,--we,-- Nazareth town in Galilee!
Nazareth town in Galilee! Ah, what a golden harmony The dawn seems, flooding its bright white walls! And, when the violet twilight falls, What a vast processional of stars Pageants over its stilled bazaars! And when the full moon touches the height Of Tabor, a torch of brilliant light, Never was sight more fair to see;-- Nazareth town in Galilee!
Nazareth town in Galilee! Strumming a desert melody, The Bedouin minstrel trolls in the street; At the Well of the Virgin the maidens meet; The cactus-hedges crimson to flower, And the olives silver hour by hour As through their branches the south wind steals; A clear bell peals, and a vulture wheels Over the crest where the wild crags be;-- Nazareth town in Galilee!
Nazareth town in Galilee! At the sound of the words how memory Kindles as earth does under the spring, Till the dead days rise for our visioning; And out of them one compassionate face Beams with a more than mortal grace; Out of them one inspiring voice Cries in the ears of the world "rejoice!" And ever a beacon of hope shall be Nazareth town in Galilee!
A Christmas Masque
FIRST KING
I am the monarch Melchior, Mighty alike in peace and war.
SECOND KING
I am the sovereign Balthasar; A myriad fold my liegemen are.
THIRD KING
The royal ruler Jasper, I, Lord of a spacious empery.
FIRST KING
Yet do I seek a little child,--
SECOND KING
A tiny nursling undefiled;
THIRD KING
And I am one likewise beguiled.
FIRST KING
To Him whose coming stars foretold,-- A babe divine in mortal mould,-- I bear this goodly gift of gold.
SECOND KING
To Him whose life shall ease the sting Of mankind's weary travailing, This fragrant frankincense I bring.
THIRD KING
To Him whose loving words shall stir To aspirations holier, My offering is this precious myrrh.
ALL
Piercing the mists of time, we see The cruel cross, the agony, And, whelmed with pity, bend the knee.
Piercing the mists of time, we gaze Adown the future's opening ways, And hear the swelling prayer and praise.
Piercing the mists of time, we hail The day when woe and sin shall fail, And over all His love prevail.
A Song for Christmas Morning
O wear for garment mirth Upon the soul, As all the fields of earth Wear one white stole! A dream of things long gone Let sorrow be: Turn thou thine eyes on dawn, Thy heart on glee!
What wonder everywhere Above, abroad! The amplitudes of air Abrim with God. His presence shining through The risen sun, And in the bending blue His benison.
Into the gulfs of gloom Go death and night; Behold around thee bloom Glad life and light! The veil of darkness drawn, Thy vision free, Turn thou thy soul on dawn, Exultingly!
The Christmas Minstrels
Now that the joy-day of the year is nearing, In that fair sun-land set 'twixt sea and sea, From hill and mountain dale behold appearing With jocund strains a minstrel company.
The reeds that shepherds played in eras olden, These are the tuneful pipes whereon they blow; The sky that over-arches is the golden, The bright Calabrian sky of long ago.
And since the decades of the saints and sages, When here to Christ was first raised prayerful praise, These minstrel men through all the echoing ages Have heralded the hallowed Christmas days.
From lonely shrines on steep and stony byways Their clear wild music up the pathway soars; It gushes like a fount on traveled highways, And through the populous piazza pours.
They cling to their old ways, these simple-hearted And humble dwellers on the uplands high; Their notes, an echo of the days departed, Span gulfs of time, and bring the dead years nigh.
Long may the cool Calabrian laurel alleys Hearken the strains, in rarer ether born, Of minstrels wending down the mountain valleys To greet the coming of the Christmas morn!
Twelfth Night Song
Heaped be the fagots high, And the half-burn?d bough From last year's revelry Be litten now! Brimmed be the posset bowl For every lusty soul; And while the maskers rule, Cry 'Noel!' cry 'Noel!' down all the halls of Yule!
O eager viols, thrill! Pipe, hautboys, clear and sweet! Work your impetuous will, Ye restless feet! For every lip--a glass! For every lad--a lass! And, ere the ardors cool, Cry 'Noel!' cry 'Noel!' down all the halls of Yule!
Yule at Thengelfor
It was Yule at Thengelfor,-- The sharp white tide of Yule; And the mail?d Thanes of War, Bred in the fiery school Of the devotees of Thor, Flung into the council-hall With sneer and clamorous call At the calm-browed Thanes of Peace Who worshiped without cease,-- Bending in prayer the knee To the One of Galilee Who died, as they said, for all.
Each man stood in his place That sharp white noon of Yule, And the War-Thanes hooted "fool," And "coward" and "craven knave;" And they flashed, each one, a glaive In every Peace-Thane's face. But the Peace-Thanes were not cowed, Smiling their quiet smile At the flaunts and threats and jeers Roaring about their ears; And they held them poised and proud, Till, after a breathing while, The tumult died like the sea Subsiding sullenly Around the breast of an isle Set at the last fiord's verge, Fronting the western surge.
Then into the council-hall Where Peace confronted War,-- Where Christ confronted Thor,-- Dauntless, willowy, tall, Came a maid of Thengelfor,-- The Princess. Ah, how fair Was the sunrise sheen of her hair, More wondrous to behold Than her coronet of gold! And she paused between them there, As white as the Yule was white, Till a hush fell on the air Like the hush of the middle night. And she said, "What stand ye for?" To the mail?d Thanes of War; And they shouted shrill, "For Thor, And the kingdom's olden might!" Then she turned her, level-eyed, To the Peace-Thanes. "Ye?" she cried; As in one voice they replied, "For Christ, and the rule of right!"
"Thor and the war and might!" Thus she mused for a space; "Christ and peace and the right!" And a glory mantled her face. "Better the right than might, Ye valiant Thanes of War! Blood now the Yule is white? Nay, 'twere a grievous sight!-- Better the Christ than Thor!"
A Yule-Tide Carol
O lightly lift thy finger, Thou loving lutanist, And let around us linger Thy music's mellow mist! Aye, let the strain beat faster In captivating time, And mirth shall be our master Until the midnight chime!
Noel!--hang high the holly While leaps the Yule-log's light; We'll drive gray Melancholy Abroad into the night!
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