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For of the noblest of the land
And central in the ring,
Knelt their anointed king.
MUTABILITY. - Shelley.
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, Streaking the darkness radiantly! - yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever ;
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast, To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
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;
Naught may endure but Mutability.
* George the Third of England.
OF A CONTENTED MIND.
TO THE MOON. — Shelley.
Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, And ever-changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?
OF A CONTENTED MIND.
WHEN all is done and said,
That hath a quiet mind ;
To deem can be content
In thinking to be spent.
To fickle Fortune's power,
Is casual every hour ;
It to a clod of clay ;
Runs never to decay.
Unto the mind alone ;
Through thinking, few or none.
Fear oftentimes restraineth words,
But makes not thoughts to cease ;
When for to hold his peace.
Our kinsmen at the grave ;
The heavens with us we have.
I can be well content
To deem in thinking spent.
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.”
From many another one ? "
And by his sandal shoon.
That were so fair to view;
And eyes of lovely blue."
THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.
“O lady, he is dead and gone,
Lady, he 's dead and gone ! At his head a green grass turf,
And at his heels a stone.
“ Within these holy cloisters long
He languished, and he died Lamenting of a lady's love,
And 'plaining of her pride.
6 Here bore him barefaced on his bier
Six proper youths and tall;
Within yon kirkyard wall."
“ And art thou dead, thou gentie youth?
And art thou dead and gone ? And didst thou die for love of me?
Break, cruel heart of stone!”
), weep not, lady, weep not so !
Some ghostly comfort seek ;
Nor tears bedew thy cheek.”
6 O, do not, do not, holy friar,
My sorrow now reprove !
That e'er won lady's love.
“And now, alas ! for thy sad loss
I 'll evermore weep and sigh; For thee I only wished to live,
For thee I wished to die.”
6 Weep no more, lady, weep no more ;
Thy sorrow is in vain;
Will ne'er make grow again.
“Our joys as winged dreams do fly;
Why, then, should sorrow last? Since grief but aggravates thy loss,
Grieve not for what is past."
“O, say not so, thou holy friar; I pray
thee, For since my truelove died for me,
'T is meet my tears should flow."
say not so!
Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever ;
To one thing constant never.
“ Now say not so, thou holy friar,
I pray thee, say not so ;
O, he was ever true !
“ And art thou dead, thou much loved youth?
And didst thou die for me?
A pilgrim I will be.
“ But first upon my truelove's grave
My weary limbs I 'll lay ;
his breathless clay.”