Part 12 (1/2)

OLD MAN.

Light heart! there sleeps beneath this mound The brightest of yon company.

The flowers that should eclipse Glycere Are hers, poor child,--her grave is here!

Vae VICTIS.

”My Kate, at the Waterloo Column, To-morrow, precisely at eight; Remember, thy promise was solemn, And--thine till to-morrow, my Kate!”

That evening seemed strangely to linger,-- The licence and luggage were packed; And Time, with a long and short finger, Approvingly marked me exact.

Arrived, woman's constancy blessing, No end of nice people I see; Some hither, some thitherwards pressing,-- But none of them waiting for me.

Time pa.s.ses, my watch how I con it!

I see her--she's coming--no, stuff!

Instead of Kate's smart little bonnet, It is aunt, and her wonderful m.u.f.f!

(Yes, Fortune deserves to be chidden, It is a coincidence queer, Whenever one wants to be hidden, One's relatives always appear.)

Near nine! how the pa.s.sers despise me, They smile at my anguish, I think; And even the sentinel eyes me, And tips that policeman the wink.

Ah! Kate made me promises solemn, At eight she had vowed to be mine;-- While waiting for one at this column, I find I've been waiting for nine.

O Fame! on thy pillar so steady, Some dupes watch beneath thee in vain:-- How many have done it already!

How many will do it again!

IMPLORA PACE.

(ONE HUNDRED YEARS HENCE.)

One hundred years! a long, long scroll Of dust to dust, and woe, How soon my pa.s.sing knell will toll!

Is Death a friend or foe?

My days are often sad--and vain Is much that tempts me to remain --And yet I'm loth to go.

Oh, must I tread yon sunless sh.o.r.e-- Go hence, and then be seen no more?

I love to think that those I loved May gather round the bier Of him, who, whilst he erring proved, Still held them more than dear.

My friends wax fewer day by day, Yes, one by one, they drop away, And if I shed no tear, Dear parted Shades, whilst life endures, This poor heart yearns for love--and yours!

Will some who knew me, when I die, Shed tears behind the hea.r.s.e?

Will any one survivor cry, ”I could have spared a worse-- We never spoke: we never met: I never heard his voice--and yet _I loved him for his verse_?”