"But first upon my true-love's grave

My weary limbs I'll lay,

And thrice I'll kiss the green grass-turf That wraps his breathless clay."

THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.

"Yet stay, fair lady: rest awhile

Beneath this cloyster wall:

See, through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, And drizzly rain doth fall."

"Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart;

For since I've found thee, lovely youth,
We never more will part!"

SOME years ago, ere Time and taste
Had turn'd our parish topsy-turvy,
When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste,
And roads as little known as scurvy,-
The man who lost his way between

St. Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket,
Was always shown across the Green,

And guided to the Parson's wicket.

Back flew the bolt of lissom lath;

Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveller up the path,

Through clean-clipt rows of box and myrtle: And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray, Upon the parlour steps collected,

Wagg'd all their tails, and seem'd to say,

"Our master knows you; you're expected!"

Up rose the Reverend Dr. Brown,

Up rose the Doctor's "winsome marrow;"

The lady lay her knitting down,

Her husband clasp'd his ponderous Barrow : Whate'er the stranger's caste or creed,

Pundit or papist, saint or sinner,

He found a stable for his steed,

And welcome for himself, and dinner.