THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT. He spoke of sinners' lost estate, He spoke of trouble, pain, and toil, In patience, faith, and love,- Then, as the spirit ebbed away, Such was the sight their wondering eyes Back each man reined his pawing steed, In silence at his side; And there, uncovered all, they stood; 261 For of the noblest of the land Was that deep-hushed, bareheaded band; By that dead pauper on the ground, MUTABILITY. - Shelley We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings We rest, a dream has power to poison sleep; We rise,-one wandering thought pollutes the day, We feel, conceive, or reason, laugh or weep, Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same! for, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free; Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; George the Third of England. OF A CONTENTED MIND. 263 TO THE MOON.- Shelley. ART thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Among the stars that have a different birth,- OF A CONTENTED MIND. WHEN all is done and said, In th' end thus shall you find: To deem can be content The body subject is To fickle Fortune's power, Is casual every hour; And death in time doth change It to a clod of clay; Whereas the mind, which is divine, Runs never to decay. Companion none is like Unto the mind alone; For many have been harmed by speech, Through thinking, few or none. 264 THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. Fear oftentimes restraineth words, Our wealth leaves us at death; The sweetest time of all my life THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.-Percy. It was a friar of orders gray Walked forth to tell his beads, And he met with a lady fair, Clad in a pilgrim's weeds. "Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar! I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine My truelove you did see." "And how should I your truelove know From many another one?" "O, by his cockle hat and staff, And by his sandal shoon. "But chiefly by his face and mien, THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. "O lady, he is dead and gone, "Within these holy cloisters long He languished, and he died Lamenting of a lady's love, And 'plaining of her pride. "Here bore him barefaced on his bier "And art thou dead, thou gentle youth? "O, weep not, lady, weep not so! "O, do not, do not, holy friar, "And now, alas! for thy sad loss I'll evermore weep and sigh; For thee I only wished to live, 265 |