"But silent let me sink to earth.
With no officious mourners near:
I would not mar one hour of mirth,
Nor startle friendship with a tear."
He died among strangers, in a foreign land, without a kindred hand to
close his eyes; yet he did not die unwept. With all his faults and
errors, and passions and caprices, he had the gift of attaching his
humble dependents warmly to him. One of them, a poor Greek, accompanied
his remains to England, and followed them to the grave. I am told that,
during the ceremony, he stood holding on by a pew in an agony of grief,
and when all was over, seemed as if he would have gone down into the
tomb with the body of his master.--A nature that could inspire such
attachments, must have been generous and beneficent.
PLOUGH MONDAY.
Sherwood Forest is a region that still retains much of the quaint
customs and holiday games of the olden time. A day or two after my
arrival at the Abbey, as I was walking in the cloisters, I heard the
sound of rustic music, and now and then a burst of merriment,
proceeding from the interior of the mansion. Presently the chamberlain
came and informed me that a party of country lads were in the servants'
hall, performing Plough Monday antics, and invited me to witness their
mummery.
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