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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 417/859
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‘
Bravo
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Fill
up
,
’
cried
Wardle
.
‘
It
will
be
two
hours
,
good
,
before
you
see
the
bottom
of
the
bowl
through
the
deep
rich
colour
of
the
wassail
;
fill
up
all
round
,
and
now
for
the
song
.
’
Thus
saying
,
the
merry
old
gentleman
,
in
a
good
,
round
,
sturdy
voice
,
commenced
without
more
ado
—
A
CHRISTMAS
CAROL
‘
I
care
not
for
Spring
;
on
his
fickle
wing
Let
the
blossoms
and
buds
be
borne
;
He
woos
them
amain
with
his
treacherous
rain
,
And
he
scatters
them
ere
the
morn
.
An
inconstant
elf
,
he
knows
not
himself
,
Nor
his
own
changing
mind
an
hour
,
He
’
ll
smile
in
your
face
,
and
,
with
wry
grimace
,
He
’
ll
wither
your
youngest
flower
.
‘
Let
the
Summer
sun
to
his
bright
home
run
,
He
shall
never
be
sought
by
me
;
When
he
’
s
dimmed
by
a
cloud
I
can
laugh
aloud
And
care
not
how
sulky
he
be
!
For
his
darling
child
is
the
madness
wild
That
sports
in
fierce
fever
’
s
train
;
And
when
love
is
too
strong
,
it
don
’
t
last
long
,
As
many
have
found
to
their
pain
.
‘
A
mild
harvest
night
,
by
the
tranquil
light
Of
the
modest
and
gentle
moon
,
Has
a
far
sweeter
sheen
for
me
,
I
ween
,
Than
the
broad
and
unblushing
noon
.
But
every
leaf
awakens
my
grief
,
As
it
lieth
beneath
the
tree
;
So
let
Autumn
air
be
never
so
fair
,
It
by
no
means
agrees
with
me
.
‘
But
my
song
I
troll
out
,
for
CHRISTMAS
Stout
,
The
hearty
,
the
true
,
and
the
bold
;
A
bumper
I
drain
,
and
with
might
and
main
Give
three
cheers
for
this
Christmas
old
!
We
’
ll
usher
him
in
with
a
merry
din
That
shall
gladden
his
joyous
heart
,
And
we
’
ll
keep
him
up
,
while
there
’
s
bite
or
sup
,
And
in
fellowship
good
,
we
’
ll
part
.
‘
In
his
fine
honest
pride
,
he
scorns
to
hide
One
jot
of
his
hard
-
weather
scars
;
They
’
re
no
disgrace
,
for
there
’
s
much
the
same
trace
On
the
cheeks
of
our
bravest
tars
.
Then
again
I
sing
till
the
roof
doth
ring
And
it
echoes
from
wall
to
wall
—
To
the
stout
old
wight
,
fair
welcome
to
-
night
,
As
the
King
of
the
Seasons
all
!
’
This
song
was
tumultuously
applauded
—
for
friends
and
dependents
make
a
capital
audience
—
and
the
poor
relations
,
especially
,
were
in
perfect
ecstasies
of
rapture
.
Again
was
the
fire
replenished
,
and
again
went
the
wassail
round
.
