82
Oh! Christmas, welcome to thy happy reign,
And all the social virtues in thy train;
The Cambrian harper hails thy festal time,
With sportive melody and artless rhyme:
Unlike the bards who sung in days of old,
And all the legends of tradition told;
In gothic castles deck'd with banners gay,
At solemn festivals they pour'd the lay:
Their poor descendant wanders thro' the vales,
And gains a welcome by his artless tales;
He finds a seat in every humble cot,
And hospitality in every spot;
'Tis now he bids the sprightly harp resound,
To bless the hours with genial plenty crown'd.
And now the gay domestic joys we prove,
The smiles of peace, festivity, and love.
"Oh! Christmas, welcome to thy hallow'd reign,
And all the social virtues in thy train;"
Compassion listening to the tale of grief,
Who seeks the child of sorrow with relief;
And every muse with animating glee,
Congenial mirth and cordial sympathy.
