survivals from the Middle Ages, or perhaps new words written for old
tunes. Such carols as "God rest you merry, gentlemen," have unspeakably
delightful airs, and the words charm us moderns by their quaintness and
rusticity, but they are far from the exquisite loveliness of the
mediaeval |78| things. Gleams of great beauty are, however, sometimes
found amid matter that in the process of transmission has almost ceased
to be poetry. Here, for instance, are five stanzas from the traditional
"Cherry-tree Carol":--

"As Joseph was a-walking,
He heard an angel sing:
'This night shall be born
Our heavenly King.

'He neither shall be born
In housen nor in hall,
Nor in the place of Paradise,
But in an ox's stall.

'He neither shall be clothed
In purple nor in pall,
But all in fair linen
As wear babies all.

'He neither shall be rocked
In silver nor in gold,
But in a wooden cradle
That rocks on the mould.

'He neither shall be christened
In white wine nor red,
But with fair spring water
With which we were christened.'"

The old carols sung by country folk have often not much to do with the
Nativity; they are sometimes rhymed lives of Christ or legends of the
Holy Childhood. Of the latter class the strangest is "The Bitter Withy,"
discovered in Herefordshire by Mr. Frank Sidgwick. It tells how the
little Jesus asked three lads to play with Him at ball. But they
refused:--

"'O we are lords' and ladies' sons,
Born in bower or in hall;
And you are but a poor maid's child,
Born in an oxen's stall.' |79|

'If I am but a poor maid's child,
Born in an oxen's stall,
I will let you know at the very latter end
That I am above you all.'

So he built him a bridge with the beams of the sun,
And over the sea went he,
And after followed the three jolly jerdins,
And drowned they were all three.

Then Mary mild called home her child,
And laid him across her knee,
And with a handful of green withy twigs
She gave him slashes three.

'O the withy, O the withy, O bitter withy
That causes me to smart!
O the withy shall be the very first tree
That perishes at the heart.'"

From these popular ballads, mediaeval memories in the rustic mind, we
must return to the devotional verse of the late sixteenth and early
seventeenth centuri