24

CHRISTMAS NUMBER OF HOUSEHOLD WORDS.

his pride, he at the same time gets rid of one
of his worst troubles.]

The Rhyme.

      HERE is a Pool, all made of ice,
          For a great round Christmas Game!
      Its rim is set with green holly boughs,
         And lamps of colour'd flame;
      With silver bells that tinkle and gingle
      As each one his offering comes to mingle,–––
      Whether ingot of gold, or a grey sea shingle.
Who comes first?–––'Tis the King, I declare,
With the crown in his hand, and the frost in his hair
      Close to the Pool he brings his crown,
          And tosses it o'er the holly!
      So, away to the bottom goes all his pride,
          And his royal melancholy;
             While gingle! tinkle ! gingle!
                 How the sweet bells ring!
             And round about the lighted Pool
                We gambol, dance, and sing!

      Who comes next?–––
         'Tis a Minister of State,
      With a Puzzle made of weights and wheels,
         And balanced on his pate!
      To the Pool of Christmas Offerings
         The Treasury Lord advances;
      Souse over, goes his Puzzle,
         And away his Lordship dances!
             While gingle! tinkle! gingle!
                How the sweet bells ring!
             And round about the lighted Pool
                We gambol, dance, and sing!

      Who comes next?
          'Tis the First Gold Stick!
      With the First Cock'd Hat!
          And the First General Brick!
      In the Pool they toss their darlings–––
          Sword–––hat–––stick–––garniture!
      And retire to the allegro
          Of the Minuet de la Cour!

      But while they caper back,
          Three Slaves-to-Dress advance,
      In splendid, killing curls and rouge,–––
          The last bright thought of France!
      They say "'Tis Christmas time;
          To the Round Game we will come;
      Let us throw away our fashions,
          And–––for once–––' let's look at home! '"
             While gingle! tinkle! gingle!
                 How the street bells ring!
             And round about the lighted Pool
                We gambol, dance, and sing!

      But who comes now?
          'Tis the Bishop in his carriage,
      Whose shoulders bear the pain and pride
          Of Church and State's mis-marriage:
      A huge bale of lawn and purple
          He heaves into the Pool,
      And, nodding to his coachman,
          Trips off, relieved and cool!

      The Millionnaire comes next,
         With a loan to help a war,
      On the wrong side of all justice–––
         And his "interest"–––not so sure,
      He inflates–––and he collapses–––
          His mind grows sick and dim–––
      Oh, the pangs of breeding money '–––
          His loan flutters o'er the brim!

         With gingle! tinkle ! gingle !
             How the sweet bells ring !
          As round about the lighted Pool
            We gambol, dance, and sing!

Who is this in red and gold?
    'Tis the Soldier with his sword,
And riding on a cannon
    Bedizen'd, bless'd, adored!
Round his neck he wears a chain,
    For a show and a pretence,
But engraved with fiery letters
    Claiming blind obedience:
His pride and bane are loosed–––
    They fly o'er the holly fence!

Next, a Lawyer, with his costs–––
    Making full a thousand pounds,
With a score of breaking hearts,
    And live years of waste and wounds.
His face is cold and wretched–––
    His life is but a span–––
A red tape-worm, at the best,
    In a black coat stuff'd with bran:
He tosses o'er his bill of costs!–––
    He is quite another man!
       With gingle! tinkle! gingle!
           How the street bells ring!
       And round about, the lighted Pool
           We gambol, dance, and sing!

The Merchant brings his bargain,
    Which would beggar half a town;–––
The Schemer shows a "spec,"
    But deserves each good man's frown;
The Scholar brings his book,
    Where his soul, all moulting, lies;
The Poet brings his laurel
    And his castle in the skies;
The Lover brings his mistress
    Who has treated him with scorn;
The Shepherd brings his favourite lamb,
    With its curly fleece unshorn;
All these into the Pool
    Are cast, with various smarts,
As valued Christmas Offerings,
    Inspired with Christmas hearts!
       While gingle! tinkle! gingle I
           How the sweet bells ring!
       And round about the lighted Pool!
           We gambol, dance, and sing!

[The crowd of players at the Game, having
joined hands in this concluding dance, now
whirl round the Pool of Ice, gambolling and
singing; and they continue to do this, till the
charm begins to work, and the heat of the
Christmas hearts outside causes the Offering
which each has thrown in, to warm to such
a genial glow, that the heat thus collectively
generated, melts the ice. The Pool gradually
dissolves the players of the game, one after
another, sink down exhausted, and fall into a
delightful reverie,; while the melted Pool over-
flows, and floats every one of them to his
home, as he seems to lie in a mother-of-pearl
boat, with a branch of holly at the prow, and
a coloured lamp amidst the green leaves
and red berries. Each one, soon after, reco-
vers his senses just enough to find himself
lying comfortably in bed, and listening to the
waits!]