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A second shepherd appears with another grumble: 'We sely wedmen dre mekyll wo. Some men, indeed, have been known to desire two wives or even three, but most would sooner have none at all. Whereupon enters Daw, a third shepherd, complaining of portents 'With mervels mo and mo. 'Was never syn noe floode sich floodys seyn'; even 'I se shrewys pepe' apparently a portentous omen.
For it was a "sky-blue" stone; a sky-blue, sacred stone; a sky-blue, sacred, Persian stone. That at once gives us its name it was a turquoise. But can the turquoise, to the certain knowledge of a mediaeval writer, "chaunges dre"? Let us turn for light to old Anselm de Boot: that is he in pig-skin on the shelf behind the bronze Hera. I handed the volume to Zaleski.
On it was inscribed in old English characters of unknown date the words: 'Shulde this Ston stalen bee, Or shuld it chaunges dre, The Houss of Sawl and hys Hed anoon shal de.
We have been accustomed to describe the heroic line as five iambic feet, and to be filled with pain and confusion whenever, as by the conscientious schoolboy, we have heard our own description put in practice. "All nìght | the dre
He gratefully returned the pressure of his uncle's hand, and then, withdrawing his own, darted down one of the intersecting walks, and was almost instantly out of sight. "This great disease for love I dre, There is no tongue can tell the wo; I love the love that loves not me, I may not mend, but mourning mo." The Mourning Maiden.
Now, let us turn our attention to this stone, and ask, first, what light does the inscription on the cup throw on its nature? "Dre," I may remind you, is an old English word, used, I think, by Burns, identical with the Saxon "dreogan," meaning to "suffer." So that the writer at least contemplated that the stone might "suffer changes." But what kind of changes external or internal?
He gratefully returned the pressure of his uncle's hand, and then, withdrawing his own, darted down one of the intersecting walks, and was almost instantly out of sight. "This great disease for love I dre, There is no tongue can tell the wo; I love the love that loves not me, I may not mend, but mourning mo." The Mourning Maiden.
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