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by [?]

And after him came next the chill December:

Yet he, through merry feasting which he made,

And great bonfires, did not the cold remember;

His Saviour’s birth his mind so much did glad:

Upon a shaggy-bearded goat he rode,

The same wherewith Dan Jove in tender years,

They say, was nourisht by th’ Idaean Mayd;

And in his hand a broad deep bowle he beares,

Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peeres.