X.

Live, laugh, tell stories; ere they're told,
New themes succeed upon the old;

New follies come, new faults, new fashions; An hour, a minute, will supply

To thought, a folio history

Of blighted hopes, and thwarted passions.

XI.

King Death, when he has snatched away Drunkards from brandy, Dukes from play, And Common-councilmen from turtle; Shall break his dart in Grosvenor Square, And mutter in his fierce despair,

"Why, what's become of Lady Myrtle?"

THE MOUNTAIN STREAM.

I.

BRAWLING Streamlet!-hasting on

Through the wild untrodden wood,

Where a voice of mortal tone,
Of thy path-thou lovely one,
Rarely breaks the solitude!

From the founts that gem the side

Of the wild bird's mountain home,

With thine unpolluted tide,

Wherefore dost thou roam?

Pure thou art, and free from stain

Ne'er to be so pure again!

II.

Not from forth the sordid clay,
Grovelling mid the haunts of men,

Rose thy sparkling waves to-day;
But where Heaven's own breezes play,
O'er the far-off, trackless glen.

There-beneath the eye of God

As those breezes, lone and freeSprang they from the emerald sea, In nature's purity.

Too glorious scene-too lofty birth— For what must bear the taint of earth.

III.

Wildly bright, the dashing foam
On thy banks is driven back ;—
'Tis thy parting message home;
Well it may thy steps shall roam
Henceforth in a wilder track.
For thy native music sweet,

Of the mountain bird and bee, Sounds thine onward course shall meet,

Of human misery!

Few but such are ever found,

In the world where thou art bound.

IV.

For the flowers that kiss thy tide,

With their sweet enamelled bells, And insect troops that o'er thee glide, Mortal forms shall crowd thy side,

From the haunts where sorrow dwells.

For the cool-descending rain,

Pure distilled from the skies,

Bitter drops thy wave shall stain,
Shed by human eyes!

And many a darksome scene be past,

Ere with the main thou blend'st at last.

V.

Human care and pain are rife,

Where thy devious track must be;
Burning passion, guilt and strife,
All the ills that darken life,

Are struggling there for mastery!
Reckless and unsullied Stream,

Bounding on thy gladsome way,
Oh! how little dost thou dream,
Where thou yet must stray!—
Yet could I weep to think on thee,-
On what thou art, and what shalt be!

VI.

All unmeet art thou to go

Thou the mountain's purest child!

To a world like ours below;

There, mid passion-war-and woe,

How soon to be defiled!

Yet 't is thine appointed race:
While I gaze-thou 'rt flashing on;
Wave on wave, that leave no trace

That they have come, or gone.—
And wheresoe'er thy path may fall,
The engulphing sea shall swallow all.

VII.

Dreamer by the brooklet's side!
Tells it not a tale to thee?-

In the ever-changing tide,

Hath not thy musing gaze descried

A type of mortal destiny?

In the far and lofty source,

Whence the fated Stream arose;

In, alas!-its onward course,

Onward to its close!

Buried in the rolling sea

Of fathomless Eternity!