All that our wisdom knows, or ever can,

Is this that God hath pity upon man;

:

And where His Spirit shines in Holy Writ,

The great word COMFORTER comes after it.

THE LADY OF LA GARAYE.

PART IV.

ILENT old gateway! whose two columns stand
Like simple monuments on either hand;
No trellised iron-work, with pleasant view
Of trim-set flowery gardens shining through;
No bolts to bar unasked intruders out;

No well-oiled hinge whose sound, like one low note
Of music, tells the listening hearts that yearn,
Expectant of dear footsteps, where to turn;
No ponderous bell whose loud vociferous tone
Into the rose-decked lodge hath echoing gone,
Bringing the porter forth with brief delay,
To spread those iron wings that check the way ;

Nothing but ivy-leaves, and crumbling stone;

Silent old gateway,-even thy life is gone!

But ere those columns, lost in ivied shade,
Black on the midnight sky their forms pourtrayed;
And ere thy gate, by damp weeds overtopped,

Swayed from its rusty fastenings and then dropped,―
When it stood portal to a living home,

And saw the living faces go and come,

What various minds, and in what various moods,
Crossed the fair paths of these sweet solitudes!

Old gateway, thou hast witnessed times of mirth,
When light the hunter's gallop beat the earth;
When thy quick wakened echo could but know
Laughter and happy voices, and the flow

Of jocund spirits, when the pleasant sight

Of broidered dresses (careless youth's delight,)
Trooped by at sunny morn, and back at falling night.

And thou hast witnessed triumph,-when the Bride Passed through,-the stately Bridegroom at her side;