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 Rh That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down.

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn By old blue-coated serving man; Then the grim boar's head frowned on high, Crested with bays and rosemary. Well can the green-garbed ranger tell How, when and where the monster fell; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baitings of the boar. The wassal round, in good brown bowls, Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls. There the huge sirloin reeked: hard by Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pye; Nor failed old Scotland to produce, At such high-tide, her savory goose.

Then came the merry maskers in, And carols roared with blithesome din. If unmelodious was the song, It was a hearty note, and strong; Who lists may in their murmuring see Traces of ancient mystery;