Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life, to light the fires of passion with, from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number. HYPERION.

I hear a voice that cries, "Alas! alas!
Whatever hath been written shall remain,
Nor be erased nor written o'er again;
The unwritten only still belongs to thee:

Take heed, and ponder well what that shall be.”
MORITURI SALUTAMUS.

DECEMBER 30.

"What a noble figure! What grace! what attitudes ! How much soul in every motion ! Every step is a word; and the whole together a poem !" HYPERION.

O graceful form, that cloud-like floatest on
With the soft, undulating gait of one
Who moveth as if motion were a pleasure!
MASQUE OF Pandora.

We speak of a Merry Christmas,
And many a Happy New Year ;
But each in his heart is thinking
Of those that are not here.

THE MEETING.

A. Alison, 1792.

DECEMBER 30.

Oh! how many disappointed hopes, how many bitter recollections, how much of wounded pride and unrequited love, were in those tears through which he read, on a marble tablet in the chapel wall opposite, [St. Gilgen] this singular inscription:

"Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy Future, without fear, and with a manly heart." HYPERION. Life is real! Life is earnest !

And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,

- act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!

A PSALM OF Life.

Horace Smith, 1779; A. Norton, 1786; Alexander II., 1818.

NATURE.

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led,

And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted

By promises of others in their stead,

Which, though more splendid, may not please

him more;

So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand

How far the unknown transcends the what we know.