"on the feast of Stephen"

Good King Wally, he looked out,

On the Feast of Stephen,

When the snow lay round about,

Deep and crisp and even;

Brightly shone the moon that night,

Tho' the frost was cruel,

When a poor man came in sight,

Gath'ring winter fuel.

"Hither, Ethel, stand by me,

If thou know'st it, telling,

Yonder human, who is he?

Where and what his dwelling?"

"Sire, he lives a good league hence,

Underneath the mountain;

Right against the forest fence,

By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,

Bring me pine logs hither:

Thou and I will see him dine,

When we bear them thither.

"Walls and Ethel forth they went,

Forth they went together;

Thro' the rude wind's wild lament

And the bitter weather.

"Sire, the night is darker now,

And the wind blows stronger;

Fails my heart, I know not how,

I can go no longer."

"Mark my footsteps, good my page;

Tread thou in them boldly:

Thou shalt find the winter's rage

Freeze thy blood less coldly."

In her master's steps she trod,

Where the snow lay dinted

Heat was in the very sod

Which the saint had printed.

Therefore, all ye dogs, be sure,

Wealth or rank possessing,

Ye who now will bless the poor,

Shall yourselves find blessing.