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The echoes of its vaults are eloquent !
BY ALARIC A. WATTS.
LONG years have passed since last I strayed,
In boyhood, through thy roofless aisle,
Day's latest, loveliest smile ;
The air around was breathing balm;
The aspen scarcely seemed to sway;
The river streamed away,
Steeped in a flood of glorious light,
Type of that hour of deep repose,In wan, wild beauty on my sight,
Thy time-worn tower arose,Brightening above the wreck of years, Like Faith amid a world of fears !
I climbed its dark and dizzy stair,
And gained its ivy-mantled brow;
Ascend that pathway now?
The steps in youth I loved to tread,
Have sunk beneath the foot of Time; Like them, the daring hopes that led
Me, once, to heights sublime, Ambition's dazzling dreams, are o'er, And I may scale those heights no more !
And years have fled, and now I stand
Once more by thy deserted fane, Nerveless alike in heart and hand !
How changed by grief and pain, Since last I loitered here, and deemed Life was the fairy thing it seemed !
And gazing on thy crumbling walls,
What visions meet my mental eye!
Some trace of years gone by,
Ay, thoughts come thronging on my soul
Of sunny youth's delightful morn ;
By pining cares unworn,-
How many a wild and withering woe
Hath seared my trusting heart since then; What clouds of blight, consuming slow
The springs that life sustain,-
How bright is every scene beheld
In youth and hope's unclouded hours !
The loveliest prospect lours .
Yet still thy turrets drink the light
Of summer-evening's softest ray,
Still mantle thy decay;
But life's gay morn of ecstacy,
That made thee seem so more than fair,The aspirations wild and high,
The soul to nobly dare,
Farewell !-Be still to other hearts
What thou wert long ago to mine ;
Do thou a beacon shine,
Farewell !--I ask no richer boon,
Than that my parting hour may be Bright as the evening skies of June!
Thus-thus to fade like thee, With heavenly Faith's soul-cheering ray To gild with glory my decay !
NEW YEAR'S EVE.
And coming events cast their shadows before.
“ HARK! the clock strikes eleven," said the Baron Rosenthäl to his assembled smiling guests; “let us drink a glass to the parting year, and the memory of all the happy hours which it has brought
His wish was immediately complied with; the glasses were cheerfully brought into contact with each other, and the kindly recollection of past happiness glistened in every eye.
“ It is, however, a strange though serenely serious thing, to watch the death of the old and the birth of the new year,” said Hermann : “ properly speaking, each instant is the commencement or end of a year; or if you please, of a century, or a millennium ; and it is custom merely which gives solemnity to the midnight hour betwixt the last of December and the first