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Where, after they had entred, they yet continued their song and dance a reasonable time, their women also following them with their wassaile boales in their hands, their bodies bruised, their faces tome, their dugges, breasts, and other parts bespotted with bloud, trickling downe from the wounds, which with their nailes they had made before their comming.
"Wassaile the trees that they may beare You many a plum and many a peare; For more or less fruits they will bring As you so give them wassailing." Our poets have as yet a better right to sing of cider than of wine; but it behooves them to sing better than English Phillips did, else they will do no credit to their Muse.
"Wassaile the trees, that they may beare You many a Plum, and many a Peare; For more or lesse fruites they will bring, As you doe give them Wassailing." Hesperides. "A brave rally o' neighbours, sure 'nough," cried Mr. Blee as he appeared amongst them. "Be Gaffer Lezzard come?" "Here, Billy." "Hast thy fire-arm, Lezzard?" "Ess, 't is here.
It is also called Lamb's Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his "Twelfth Night": Next crowne the bowle full With gentle Lamb's Wool; Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger, With store of ale too, And thus ye must doe To make the Wassaile a swinger. The old gentleman's whole countenance beamed with a serene look of indwelling delight as he stirred this mighty bowl.
As there were several good voices among the household, the effect was extremely pleasing; but I was particularly gratified by the exaltation of heart, and sudden sally of grateful feeling, with which the worthy Squire delivered one stanza: his eyes glistening, and his voice rambling out of all the bounds of time and tune: "'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltlesse mirth, And giv'st me wassaile bowles to drink, Spiced to the brink: Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand, That soiles my land; And giv'st me for my bushell sowne, Twice ten for one."
As there were several good voices among the household, the effect was extremely pleasing, but I was particularly gratified by the exaltation of heart and sudden sally of grateful feeling with which the worthy squire delivered one stanza, his eye glistening and his voice rambling out of all the bounds of time and tune: "'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth, And givest me Wassaile bowles to drink Spiced to the brink; Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand That soiles my land: And giv'st me for my bushell sowne, Twice ten for one."
"Wassaile the trees that they may beare You many a plum and many a peare; For more or less fruits they will bring As you so give them wassailing." Our poets have as yet a better right to sing of cider than of wine; but it behooves them to sing better than English Phillips did, else they will do no credit to their Muse.
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