Tnn rolla hla ceuel-ooune. The race of yore,
Who danced our infa.ncy upon their kuee,
Alld told our marvelling boyhood legenda atore,
Of their atrnnge nnturea happ'd l:iy lantl ore~&,
How are they blotted from the things that be I
How few, all weak and witber 'd of their force,
Wroit on the nrge of clark eternity,
Like etranded wrecka, the tide n~turnlng hoarse,
To sweep them from our light I Time rolla hie cea.uleu
ooune, Soon.
Tau let ua be content in spirit, though
We cannot walk, a.a we are f11in to do,
Within the aolemn shadow of our gt·iefa
For ever~but must needs come down again
From tbe bright ekirta of those pl'otectiug cloUU8 1
To tread the common paths of e11rth a.new.
Then let ua be content to leave behind ua
So much; which yet we leave not quite behind;
For the bright memot·iea of the holy dead,
Tbe ble•ed ones departed, shine on us
Like the pure aplendoura of eome clear large atar,
Which pilgrims, travelling onward, at their back.a
Leave, and at every moment eee not now ;
Y et, whenaoe'er they list, may pauae and turn,
And with ita glories gild their fAcea still:
Or aa beneath a northern slty is seen
The eunkeu sunset living in the weat,
A tender radiance there aurvi• ing long,
Which haa not faded all away, before
The Bamillg banners of the morn advance ·
Over the aum.mita of thtl orient billa.
TR&Ncn.