These are somewhat briefer and less complete than usual. In particular, I haven’t bothered copying out the texts themselves unless translation is needed. Better that than nothing. Maybe.
The usual remarks apply: corrections and suggestions are always appreciated; everything may be full of mistakes; translations are mine and deliberately very literal.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one.
| Hodie Christus natus est, | Today Christ was born, |
| hodie salvator apparuit. | today the saviour appeared. |
| Hodie in terra canunt angeli, | Today on earth the angels sing, |
| laetantur archangeli. | the archangels are merry. |
| Hodie exultant justi, dicentes: | Today the just rejoice, saying: |
| Gloria in excelsis Deo, alleluia. | Glory (be) to God on high, alleluia. |
| Noe! | Noel! |
I don’t actually know that Noe = Noel, but it seems plausible. “Noel”, incidentally, doesn’t (as I always half-bakedly guessed) relate to “novel”, “new”, etc., but to “natal” or more precisely Latin natalis – but if I’m understanding the OED’s terse etymological note correctly, at the time the (Middle French) word nael was formed the meaning of natalis was no longer anything specifically to do with births but simply meant any annual church festival. Well, it surprised me, anyway.
It’s unclear, but fortunately doesn’t matter in the least, whether the alleluias and Noes are part of the rejoicing of the just, or the singer’s comment thereon.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one, except that Wesley’s original text ended with “Everlasting God, come down” rather than “Thou shalt reign, and thou alone”.
| O magnum mysterium et admirabile sacramentum, | O great mystery and wondrous sacrament, |
| ut animalia viderent Dominum natum, | that animals should see the Lord [new-]born |
| jacentem in praesepio! | lying in a manger! |
| Beata virgo, cuius viscera meruerunt portare Dominum Christum. | Blessed [is the] virgin, whose womb was worthy to carry Christ the Lord. |
| Alleluia! | Alleluia! |
A very old bit of Christmas liturgy; anonymous and of unknown date as far as I’m aware.
admirabile: no, this doesn’t exactly mean “admirable”, although “admirable” did once mean “fit to be wondered at”. (The “-mira-” element is the same as in “miracle”.)
viscera: a very general term; a more literal translation would be “internal organs”, but somehow that seems neither poetic nor reverent.
Bethlem Juda: Bethlehem, in Judea. So far as I know, the only reason it’s the way it is is metrical convenience.
to name: as his name.
eke: also. (Related to “eke out”, originally meaning to add to.)
vouchsafed: conferred a benefit.
forlorn: Generally just means “wretched” these days, but it used to mean all of the following: lost, morally depraved, doomed to destruction, forsaken. (Which curiously enough is exactly the set of meanings called for at this point.)
| Quem vidistis, pastores, | What you have seen, shepherds, |
| dicite, et annuntiate nobis; | speak, and announce it to us: |
| in terris quis apparuit? | on the earth who has appeared? |
| Natum vidimus, et choros angelorum, | We have seen the new-born, and choirs of angels, |
| collaudantes Dominum. | praising God together. |
| Alleluia. | Alleluia. |
The text above is the one set by Dering. (Except that Dering introduces a question mark after pastores, which I think makes nonsense of annuntiate nobis.) Poulenc, after the news has been delivered, has at one point dicite, et annuntiate nobis Christi nativitatem: Tell us, and announce to us the birth of Christ. He also doesn’t have the final Alleluia.
choros: For some reason I keep wanting to “correct” this to chorus: it looks as if the text has suddenly switched from Latin to Greek. But (I mention in case anyone else has the same sort of brain failure) of course choros is correct: choirs, plural, in the accusative.
Alleluia: As usual in this sort of text, it’s hard to tell (but also doesn’t matter) whether this is part of what the shepherds said or a sort of editorial comment. Or, indeed, a reply from whoever is asking the original question.
clerkes: clergy. (Their bok is of course the Bible.) The modern meaning of “clerk” comes about as follows: clergyman; scholar or highly literate person; secretary; person with responsibility for some specific task involving writing.
Ne: If not.
hevene: of heaven.
Ne hadde never our lady a-ben hevene quene: There is an old Christian idea that the fall of Adam, although it brought sin and death into the world, was none the less a Good Thing overall because of the greater good it enabled, namely the Incarnation and the redemption of the world. The author of this carol, however, seems to think that sin and death were worthwhile because they enabled Mary to become queen of heaven, an audacious idea indeed.
moun singen: must sing.
The text is by Christina Rossetti.
bleak midwinter: There is no reason whatever to think that Jesus was born in December, and at its coldest the weather in Bethlehem isn’t severe enough to produce hard freezing. Poetic licence is a wonderful thing.
Heaven and earth shall flee away: presumably a reference to Revelation 21:1.
whom angels fall down before: of course the comma after angels in our copies (!) is a mistake.
the Kings’ gifts: the ones given by the Wise Men (whom, incidentally, the NT nowhere calls kings; presumably the idea that they were so derives from Isaiah 60:3). I wouldn’t bother to mention something so obvious, except that on first reading this I misread it as King’s gifts, took that to mean gifts suitable for a king, and was thereby briefly led to a serious misinterpretation of the second verse.
Of course the contrast between verses 1 and 3 is the whole point.
Although Phillips Brooks was indeed a bishop, he wasn’t made a bishop until long after he wrote the words of this carol. Which, incidentally, originally had five verses. (The extra verse, between our third and fourth, runs as follows: “Where children pure and happy / Pray to the blessed Child, / Where Misery cries out to Thee, / Son of the Mother mild; / Where Charity stands watching, / And Faith holds wide the door, / The dark night wakes, the glory breaks, / And Christmas comes once more.” I can’t say I’m surprised that that verse is usually omitted. Oh, and the comma between “receive him” and “still”, beloved of punctilious choirs everywhere, isn’t in the original text!)
Emmanuel: note that this means “God with us” or “God is with us”.
| In dulci jubilo | In sweet joy |
| Let us our homage shew; | |
| Our heart’s joy reclineth | |
| In praesepio, | in the manger |
| And like a bright star shineth | |
| Matris in gremio. | in [his] mother’s breast. |
| Alpha es et O. | You are Alpha and O[mega]. |
| O Jesu parvule! | O tiny little Jesus |
| I yearn for thee alway! | |
| Hear me, I beseech thee, | |
| O puer optime! | O most perfect boy! |
| My prayer let it reach thee, | |
| O princeps gloriae! | O prince of glory! |
| Trahe me post te! | Draw me after you! |
| O Patri caritas, | O the Father’s love, |
| O nati lenitas! | O the newborn’s mercy! |
| Deeply were we stained | |
| Per nostra crimina; | by our crimes; |
| But thou hast for us gained | |
| Coelorum gaudia. | the joys of heaven. |
| O that we were there! | |
| Ubi sunt gaudia, [where,] | Where are joys, |
| If that they be not there? | |
| There are angels singing | |
| Nova cantica, | new songs, |
| There the bells are ringing | |
| Regis in curia: | in the court of the King: |
| O that we were there! |
This sort of text, switching repeatedly between languages, is called macaronic. Apparently it really is named after the pasta, or rather from a different food that was called by that name in the 14th century or thereabouts, a kind of dumpling.
The text we’re singing is a translation by Pearsall of an original that switches between German and Latin. The Latin is unaltered; the meaning of the English is often somewhat different from that of the German. A more literal translation of the first verse: “In dulci jubilo, now sing and be glad! Our hearts’ joy lies in praesepio; and shines like the sun Matris in gremio. Alpha es et O!”
The text is by Miles Coverdale, “after Martin Luther”; it seems to be rather loosely based on Luther’s hymn Gelobet sei’st du, Jesu Christ.
only: qualifies son: “the blessed only son of God”.
that everlasting good: means God, obviously; I think “good” means here “morally good being” even though in modern English that isn’t among the meanings of “good” as a noun.
stranger: probably doesn’t have its modern meaning of “person one has never met” but means either simply “guest” (as opposed to a member of the household) or “foreigner”. I can’t tell by comparing with Luther’s original because this stanza appears not to have any counterpart therein.
freely: in Coverdale’s time, I think this word had definite overtones of “nobly” (that is, like a freeman rather than a serf). No corresponding word appears in Luther’s text; I suspect that its actual meaning here is “something that rhymes with mercy” (which of course it doesn’t nowadays, but that’s hardly Coverdale’s fault).
(Note that this text is not the same as that of William Matthias’s work of the same name.)
Sir Christèmas: originally simply a personification of Christmas Day; later on, became more or less equivalent to “Father Christmas” (but before that character had been assimilated to St Nicholas and associated with gift-giving and children). In this text, I think he’s simply Christmas Day personified.
Good day: the original text actually has goday, which as well as being a greeting like modern “good day” could simply mean a fortunate day, or good fortune more generally. I suspect that all three meanings are operative here: greetings and good fortune to you, Sir Christèmas, on this happy day.
young: the original text has ying, rhyming with “king” before it and “coming” after it. (For the avoidance of doubt, I’m pointing this out because it interests me, not because I think Chris should have kept ying in his text.)
Godes: God’s, of course.
is light: has come down. (Like the more familiar “alight”.)
bright: perhaps the writer is thinking of the designation of the Virgin Mary as maris stella, the star of the sea, or of her traditional depiction as crowned with stars (cf. Revelation 12:1). Or perhaps it just means “radiantly beautiful” or something of the sort.
beth: are (be-eth). After some discussion in rehearsal we’re pronouncing this with a short “e”.
snell: eager. This is an odd usage; snell could mean “eager” but usually in the context of doing something. (Unsurprisingly, since as anyone acquainted with German or Dutch will have guessed the underlying meaning is something like “quick”.) I wonder whether “impatient” would actually be the best translation, though that meaning is unknown to the OED and to the Middle English Dictionary.
clerkes: clergy.
save: Two syllables.
bales: Chris gives “woes” as a paraphrase, but a bale could mean not only a woe but also a sin, and I suspect that the author had both meanings in view. “Free them of all their evils” might be a rough modern equivalent, the ambiguity between evils committed and evils suffered being deliberate.
seemly: nowadays this means only “decorous”, but formerly it had other meanings: good-looking, pleasant, impressively proportioned. I suspect an underlying meaning along the lines of “just as it should be” and wonder whether this is what’s meant here; if something more specific is intended, it’s probably “pleasant-looking” (in which sense, incidentally, the word was generally applied only to those of high rank; I think good-looking-ness was formerly regarded as a more respectable thing to praise someone for than it is now).
Holst sets all 11 verses; Gardner only 4. Some of what follows therefore doesn’t apply to Gardner.
This carol, probably of mediaeval origin and perhaps from a mystery play, actually has no fewer than 11 verses recounting the incarnation, life, death and resurrection of Jesus. I believe its imagery of dancing was the inspiration for Sidney Carter’s famous “Lord of the Dance”. I assume that the specific incidents in Jesus’s life that are referred to here are familiar enough not to need explaining.
Tomorrow shall be: One should presumably imagine this verse as being sung (unlike the rest) immediately before the Incarnation. (Or perhaps long before: “a thousand years are as a day” and all that.)
my true love: the human race, or perhaps more specifically the Church. Or perhaps any individual person; the meaning here may be “I hope that you, the listener, will hear my account of my life, and thereby be called into my dance”. (Which seems like the sort of thing you might get in a mystery play. But I don’t actually know anything about mystery plays, so take that with a pinch of salt.)
chance: happen.
legend: I always thought this meant something like “explanatory inscription” (as on, e.g., an O.S. map) but that meaning seems to be far too recent to be meant here. In fact, it probably just means “story” or “account”.
silly: Probably doesn’t mean quite what “silly” does now. Depending on just when these words were written, it’s probably somewhere in the vicinity of “innocent”, “harmless”, “feeble”, “pathetic”.
my chance: “fortune”, not “opportunity”.
without substance: “substance” here may mean either possessions generally, or food more specifically.
made great suit ... made great variance: they chased after me (compare “pursuit”) and argued with me.
in sure substance: I suspect that these words are mostly filler, but perhaps they’re seeking to emphasize that the Second Person Of The Trinity was the very same being (= substance, in traditional theological jargon) as (the divine nature of) Jesus. You won’t go far wrong by taking these words as meaning “my very self”.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one.
| Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht! | Silent night! Holy night! |
| Alles schläft, einsam wacht | Everyone is asleep, but [they] only are awake, |
| Nur das traute, heilige Paar. | Only the cosy, holy pair. |
| Holder Knab’ in lockigem Haar | The lovely curly-haired boy |
| Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh! | Sleeps in heavenly rest! |
| Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht! | Silent night! Holy night! |
| Gottes Sohn, O wie lacht | God’s son, O how [it] laughs |
| Lieb’ aus deinem Göttlichen Mund. | Love, from your divine mouth. |
| Da uns schlägt die rettende Stund, | There the hour of salvation strikes for us, |
| Jesus in deiner Geburt! | Jesus, at your birth! |
| Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht! | Silent night! Holy night! |
| Die der Welt Heil gebracht, | He who brought health to the world, |
| Aus des Himmels goldenen Höhn | From the golden heights of heaven |
| Uns die Gnaden Fülle lässt sehn | lets us see the abundance of grace |
| Jesum in Menschengestalt. | in Jesus’s human face. |
| Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht! | Silent night! Holy night! |
| Hirten erst kundgemacht | Shepherds first made aware of it |
| Durch der Engel Halleluja, | By the angels’ Hallelujah, |
| Tönt es laut von Ferne und Nah: | Sounded it loudly far and near: |
| Jesus der Retter ist da! | Jesus the saviour is here! |
You will notice that the usual English words are very far from being an accurate translation of the German.
einsam wacht / Nur ...: in the German text there is no comma after wacht; putting one there makes nonsense of it.
traute: cosy, happy, faithful, affectionate.
Holder Knab’ in lockigem Haar: I’m sorry, but it really does mean that.
Gottes Sohn ... Mund: it’s basically impossible to translate the two lines of this into English separately. “God’s son, O how love laughs from your divine mouth”. (Divine mouth? Yup.)
Da uns schlägt ...: I’m afraid the suggestion is that Jesus’s laughter is the sound of the hour of salvation striking.
Heil: health, wholeness, salvation. (The salutation Heil! presumably originally meant something like “your good health!”. And it’s just occurred to me that “salutation” must have a similar origin in Latin salus, safety or health.)
bei Ferne und Nah: Chris has von instead of bei, which I’m afraid doesn’t make any sense. (Cautionary note: I’ve had a dissenting opinion on this; still under discussion. But bei is definitely what Mohr wrote and von isn’t.)
Obvious ones: sitten: sit. sweete: sweet. alle: all. lordes: lords. kinges: kings. childes: child’s. saiden: said. maken: make.
Lording: can mean either “lord” or “little lord”. I’d assume the latter meaning except that it was usually used contemptuously. Even so, with sweeting (small sweet thing or person) so prominent in the carol, I think “little lord” is the more likely meaning.
alle thing: In Middle English, thing could be plural as well as singular. Later, precisely because of the phrase alle thing, all became usable like every. Then thing lost its plural meaning. I don’t know for sure whether what we have here is “all things” or “every thing”. Of course it doesn’t matter, but I find this sort of stuff interesting, so there.
mickle: much. (Don’t be confused by the saying “many a mickle makes a muckle”, which is a nonsensical garbled version of the correct “many a little makes a mickle” or “many a pickle makes a mickle”; mickle and muckle are the same word.)
all in heaven’s bliss: angels rather than departed souls, I think.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one, except that I always feel that one should segue into Queen’s We will rock you (note: YouTube link; not even slightly Christmas-carol-like) for the refrain.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one.
(Our running order calls this “The dream of Christmas”, which is wrong.)
may: maiden. (As in “A babe is born all of a may”.)
soothly: truly. (A soothsayer, originally, means one who speaks the truth. Presumably it came to mean a prophetic prognosticator because speaking the truth about the future is more difficult than speaking the truth about the present.)
To keep ... from cold: the word order here is very weird. “She sought to keep her son full fast about from cold”. fast = secure; presumably about suggests that she’s doing it by wrapping him up warmly.
pay: satisfaction, liking. (This meaning, long obsolete, actually predates the “money given in exchange for goods or services” sense.) Joseph is displeased that his son is kept in conditions so little fit for a king.
Basically identical to I saw a maiden sitten and sing, discussed above.
| Personent hodie | [Let them] resound today, |
| voces puerulae, | the voices of little boys, |
| laudantes jucunde | pleasantly praising |
| qui nobis est natus, | him who is born for us today, |
| summo Deo datus, | given by the most high God, |
| et de virgineo | and from a virgin’s |
| ventre procreatus. | womb born. |
| In mundo nascitur, | Born into the world, |
| pannis involvitur, | wrapped in cloths, |
| praesepi ponitur | placed in a stable |
| stabulo brutorum, | in the animals’ abode, |
| rector supernorum. | [was] the ruler of the heavens. |
| Perdidit spolia | [He] has lost his spoils |
| princeps infernorum. | the sovereign of hell. |
| Magi tres venerunt, | Three magicians have come, |
| munera offerunt, | they offer gifts, |
| parvulum inquirunt, | they sought after the tiny little one, |
| stellulam sequendo, | they had to follow the little star, |
| ipsum adorando, | they had to worship him, |
| aurum, thus et myrrham | gold, incense and myrrh |
| ei offerendo. | they had to offer to him. |
| Omnes clericuli, | [Let] all little clergy |
| pariter pueri, | like the boys, |
| cantent ut angeli: | sing like angels: |
| Advenisti mundo, | You are come to the earth, |
| laudes tibi fundo. | I pour out praises to you. |
| Ideo gloria | Therefore [let there be] glory |
| in excelsis Deo! | to God in the highest! |
personent: per-sonent, nothing to do with persons. Also: subjunctive, not indicative.
puerulae: I don’t know what boys are intended, but this carol seems to be derived from an earlier song about the so-called Holy Innocents so maybe it’s them. Why they in particular should be rejoicing about the birth of Jesus, I’m not sure. One might have expected the reverse.
virgineo ventre: No break between these words, at least as far as the sense goes. (It’s for our esteemed conductor to decide whether musical considerations require one.)
praesepi ... stabulo: both of these words can mean a stable specifically, or the dwelling-place of an animal or a person of the lower classes.
spolia: the meaning here is presumably the souls of the damned, or rather those who would have been damned had it not been for Jesus.
perdidit: for the avoidance of doubt, it is the ruler of hell who has lost his spoils, not the ruler of the heavens.
princeps: note that this is not equivalent to modern English “prince”. (But in older English “prince” often means “sovereign” or “ruler”, as in the title “prince of peace”.)
Magi: the word in fact means more specifically a Magian, a learned man and magician from Persia.
sequendo ... adorando ... offerendo: “had to” isn’t quite an ideal translation for these gerundives. It was necessary that they did so; it was appropriate that they did so; that sort of thing. (I wonder whether in fact “following the little star in order to worship him and offer him gold, incense and myrrh” is a correct translation, but if so I’m at a loss to understand how it works grammatically.)
munera offerunt, parvulum inquirunt: In the original source there is a line missing at this point and it just says parvulum inquirunt. If you follow that link, you will see that someone (I have no idea in what century) has added munera offerunt before that line. Another possible fix I’ve seen which makes better sense: parvulum inquirunt, Bethlehem adeunt.
clericuli: I don’t know why not simply clerici; perhaps just because of the pariter pueri in the next line.
cantent: “let them sing”, not “they sing”.
(Note that this text is not the same as that of Christopher Brown’s work of the same name.)
The carol is a dialogue between Sir Christèmas and a company of revellers. Sir Christèmas is heard first, singing nowells; the revellers ask who’s there, and the second set of nowells is part of their question. I am here, Sir Christèmas are the words of Sir C. himself again, and the revellers welcome him, ending with more nowells. He then brings his message: Dieu vous garde ... causeth you to sing: Nowell, nowell. I think the remaining words are all the revellers’.
Dieu vous garde, beaux sieurs: God protect you, fair lords. beau mainly means “good-looking”; as I remarked above, good looks used to be thought of as a sign of character, nobility and so forth, so that calling someone good-looking was a more serious sort of compliment than now. sieur is somewhere intermediate between “gentleman” and “lord”, I think.
at a brayde: in a rush, in a flash. The word meant a sudden quick movement before it meant anything to do with twisting. It is, of course, the same as the modern “braid”.
Buvez bien par toute la compagnie: Drink well, with the whole company.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one, except to note that in fact the Bible does not say that Jesus was born on Christmas Day.
I’ve nothing in particular to say about this one, except that the interpolation of “Lord” into “Go tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is born” doesn’t make any sense. Blame Hogan, not the anonymous author of the original spiritual.
figgy pudding: similar but not identical to modern Christmas pudding. The main difference is the substitution of figs for raisins.
you and your kin: kin = family, of course, though as a child I always thought it was “king”. You might be amused by Snopes’s list of other mondegreens in Christmas carols, all of them funnier than mine.