For, early memories round me throng,
Old times, and manners, and men,
As I look behind on my journey so long
Of threescore miles and ten;

I look behind, and am once more young,
Buoyant, and brave, and bold,
And my heart can sing, as of yore it
Before they called me old.

I do not see her-the old wife there-
Shrivelled, and haggard, and grey,

sung,

But I look on her blooming, and soft, and fair,
As she was on her wedding-day :

I do not see you, daughters and sons,
In the likeness of women and men,
But I kiss you now as I kissed you once,
My fond little children then :

And, as my own grandson rides on my knee,
Or plays with his hoop or kite,

I can well recollect I was merry as he-
The bright-eyed little wight!

'Tis not long since, it cannot be long,—
My years so soon were spent,

Since I was a boy, both straight and strong,
Yet now am I feeble and bent.

A dream, a dream,—it is all a dream!
A strange, sad dream, good sooth;
For old as I am, and old as I seem,
My heart is full of youth:

Eye hath not seen, tongue hath not told,

And ear hath not heard it sung,

How buoyant and bold, though it seem to grow old, Is the heart, for ever young!

For ever young,—though life's old age
Hath every nerve unstrung;
The heart, the heart is a heritage
That keeps the old man young!

NATURE'S NOBLEMAN.

AWAY with false fashion, so calm and so chill,
Where pleasure itself cannot please;
Away with cold breeding, that faithlessly still
Affects to be quite at its ease;

For the deepest in feeling is highest in rank,
The freest is first in the band,

And nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank,
Is a man with his heart in his hand!

Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just,

He warmly can love,—and can hate,

Nor will he bow down with his face in the dust
To Fashion's intolerant state:

For best in good breeding, and highest in rank,
Though lowly or poor in the land,

Is nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank,
The man with his heart in his hand!

His fashion is passion, sincere and intense,
His impulses, simple and true,

Yet tempered by judgment, and taught by good sense,
And cordial with me, and with you:

For the finest in manners, as highest in rank,

It is you, man! or you, man! who stand Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, A man with his heart in his hand!

NEVER GIVE UP!

NEVER give up! it is wiser and better
Always to hope, than once to despair;
Fling off the load of Doubt's cankering fetter,
And break the dark spell of tyrannical care:
Never give up! or the burden may sink you,-
Providence kindly has mingled the cup,
And in all trials or troubles, bethink you,

The watchword of life must be, Never give up!

Never give up! there are chances and changes
Helping the hopeful a hundred to one,
And through the chaos High Wisdom arranges
Ever success, if you'll only hope on:
Never give up! for the wisest is boldest,
Knowing that Providence mingles the cup,
And of all maxims the best, as the oldest,

Is the true watchword of Never give up!

Never give up!—though the grape-shot may rattle,
Or the full thunder-cloud over you burst,
Stand like a rock,-and the storm or the battle
Little shall harm you, though doing their worst:
Never give up!-if adversity presses,

Providence wisely has mingled the cup,
And the best counsel, in all your distresses,

Is the stout watchword of Never give up!

THE SUN.

BLAME not, ye million worshippers of gold-
Modern idolators—their works and ways,
When Asia's children, in the times of old,

Knelt to the sun, outpouring prayer and praise As to God's central throne; for when the blaze Of that grand eye is on me, and I stand

Watching its majesty with painful gaze, I too could kneel among that Persian band, Had not the Architect of yon bright sphere Taught me Himself: bidding me look above, Beneath, around, and still to find Him-here! King of the heart, dwelling in no fixt globe,

But gladly thron'd within the spirit of love, Wearing that light ethereal as a robe.

THE MOON.

I KNOW thee not, O moon,-thou caverned realm, Sad satellite, a giant ash of death,

Where cold, alternate, and the sulphurous breath Of ravaging volcanoes, overwhelm

All chance of life like ours,-art thou not
Some fallow world, after a reaping time
Of creatures' judgment, resting in thy lot?
Or haplier must I take thee for the blot

On God's fair firmament, the home of crime,
The prison-house of sin, where damned souls

Feed upon punishment ?-O thought sublime, That, amid Night's black deeds, when evil prowls Through the broad world, then, watching sinners well, Glares over all the wakeful eye of Hell!

THE STARS.

I.

FAR-flaming stars, ye sentinels of Space,
Patient and silent ministers around
Your Queen, the moon, whose melancholy face
Seems ever pale with pity and grief profound
For sinful Earth,—I, a poor groveller here,

A captive eagle chain'd to this dull ground,
Look up and love your light in hope and fear:
Hope, that among your myriad host is one,
A kingdom for my spirit, a bright place

Where I shall reign when this short race is run,
An heir of joy, and glory's mighty son!

Yet, while I hope, the fear will freeze my brain-
What if indeed for worthless me remain

No waiting sceptre, no predestined throne ?