nd pull!"
Cries Dick the wright, on long-eared steed;
"He shall have thwack
On lazy back,
That yoketh him not, in time of need!"
A long wain-whip
Dick doth equip,
And with beans in the bladder at end of thong,
It seemeth to threaten strokes sturdy and strong;--
Yet clown and maid
Give eager aid,--
And all, as they rattle the huge block along,
Seem to court the joke
Of Dick's wain-whip stroke,--
Be it ever so smart, none thinks he hath wrong;--
Till with mirthsome glee,
The old ash tree
Hath come to the threshold of Torksey hall,--
Where its brave old heart
A glow shall impart
To the heart of each guest at the festival.

And through the porch, a jocund crowd,
They rush, with heart-born laughter loud;
And still the merry mimesters call,
With jest and gibe, "Laugh, losels all!"

Then in the laden sewers troop,
With plattered beef and foaming stoup:--
"Make merry, neighbours!" cries good Hugh,
The white-haired seneschal:
"Ye trow, bold Thorold welcomes you--
Make merry, my masters, all!"

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 wight
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 by the tongue professed,
Is not within belied.

And the Baron's beauteous child is there,
In her maiden peerlessness,--
Her eyes diffusing heart-light rare,
And smiles so sweetly debonair,
That all her presence bless.--

But wherefore paleth, soon, her cheek?
And why, with trembling, doth she seek
To shun