A garland of Christmas carols, ancient and modern, ed. by Joshua Sylvester, Выпуск 797

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John Camden Hotten
1861

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Стр. 117 - JOY to the world ! the Lord is come ; Let earth receive her King; Let every heart prepare him room, And heaven and nature sing.
Стр. 147 - Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Стр. 146 - Although thy breath be rude. Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly.
Стр. 120 - Fear not," said he, for mighty dread Had seized their troubled mind ; " Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you, and all mankind.
Стр. 94 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Стр. 181 - So now is come our joyful'st feast ; Let every man be jolly ; Each room with ivy leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry. Now all our neighbours
Стр. 119 - Prince of peace ! Hail, the Sun of righteousness ! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings : Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die ; Born to raise the sons of earth ; Born to give them second birth.
Стр. 183 - And if they hap to fail of these, They plague them with their warrants : But now they feed them with good cheer, And what they want they take in beer, For Christmas comes but once a year, And then they shall be merry.
Стр. 184 - Though other purses be more fat, Why should we pine or grieve at that ? Hang sorrow ! care will kill a cat, And therefore let's be merry. Hark ! how the wags abroad do call Each other forth to rambling : Anon you'll see them in the hall For nuts and apples scrambling. Hark ! how the roofs with laughter sound...
Стр. 175 - Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing ; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts

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