DEPARTING TIME.

BY THE AUTHOR OF ERATO,' AND OTHER POEMS.

'ANOTHER, AND ANOTHER!' Hoary Time!
How fleetly come, and how unheeded go,
Thine emissaries, Years! Thou art to few
A riddle that is read; and yet to most
A secret that hath not the power to move
Their idle curiosity, or win

So much attention in a varying year,

As is at Folly's glass, or Fashion's shrine,
Each day bestowed-ay, often every hour.
The knell of thy departure sometimes rings
Full on the quickened ear; and startled Thought,
Leaping bewildered from the airy halls
Where most it doth inhabit, for a while
Fixes its vision on the awing gulf

In which thou disappearest, year by year:

But soon, unused to contemplating aught

So vast and terrible, it shrinketh back,

And stealeth to its airy halls again.

Oh, it is sad to think how unobserved

Thou glidest onward; for in thee man works

His all of good and evil-weal and wo!

Thou gone, there comes no future chance of change:
Fixed is the destiny-written the doom-
Indelible the record! Hark!

Again,

Full-toned and solemn, from thine awful gulf,
Comes up that voice, which striketh not the ear,
But in the brain rings long and thrillingly:
'Another, and another! Echoed back
From the rapt mind, the universe doth seem,
For the lone moment, without other tone:
'Another and another! Knell of hope
To some, of life to others, and of Time
To all! And yet, unresting voyager!
Man notes thy progress, only as he notes
The still career of pestilence-by what
Thou strikest, in thine onward march, to earth,
And strewest in thy path - an utter wreck!

Strange, that a creature gifted as is man,
Endowed with aspirations limitless-

Fashioned and formed with such high, wondrous art,
Furnished with strength of intellect to soar,

Beauty to dazzle, blandishments to win,

And warmth of heart to cherish - should be prone,

So prone to earth, and earthly vanities.

Whence, but from this, proceed the varied ills
That life embitter? Guile, that murders peace-
Passion, that scorches with incessant heat,
Firing the blood, and maddening the brain-
Avarice, that blinds the eyes of Rectitude,
And grasps forever-Strife, that pales the cheek,
And gives the brow its furrows-griefs that rob
The eye of lustremurmurs without end
Longings unsatisfied-guilt unreproved?

We make or mar Life's blessings! We do hold
Within ourselves the measure of our fate;

And as we fill it with the vanities

And shadows of existence, or the things

Of comeliness and substance, will it yield
Bliss-giving good, or soul-destroying ill.

The world is beautiful. Thought ne'er hath framed,
In its most frenzied moments, vale so sweet,
Mountain so towering, sunny stream so fair,
Torrent so grand, abysm so awful, cliff
So dizzying, parterre so richly gemm'd,
With varying flowers, or velvet slope so soft,

But Nature, in her visible works, doth far
Surpass them all. And this so glorious world,
Man's heritage and home is. Gift abused!
Fortune unmerited! How like a god's

Might be his bearing here! Or, nobler thought!
How much of angel-purity, and joy
Celestial, might his mortal state afford,
Which now is poisoned by all evil things,
Through his perverseness. Not to ease the pain,
Lighten the burthen, meliorate the lot,

Or soothe the grief of his poor fellow-man,
Doth he esteem his duty; but to roam

The earth in search of treasure, while there is
A nook unvisited - to grasp, and grasp,
Until the arm is nerveless-to exact,

Even from Want, the pittance that might save-
To wring from houseless Beggary its groat,
And claim its tatters - and, with miser-care,
To hoard ill-gotten gains, while Wretchedness,
Squalid and shivering, seeks his door in vain!

Alas! that lay so sombre should be sung
Mid the rejoicings for the new-born year!
But man hath bowed his spirit in the dust-
Forgotten his high birth, and destiny
Exalted and sublime - debased his name
And noble nature- and so long on earth
Bent his keen eye, and fix'd his scheming mind,
That he doth think THIS is the house in which
He shall abide for ever! Therefore 't is,
That in the colors of awakening truth
Fancy now dips her pencil, and portrays
That which may startle. Hark!

Again - again:

'Another, and another! Thrice, now thrice,
That solemn-sounding knell hath in my brain
Rang thrillingly and long. Oh, would this lay
Could here and there a thoughtful bosom find,
And but a tithe impart of what I feel
Working upon my spirit now!

What! - mirth,
And revelry, and music! Yon bright hall,
Where hand thrills hand, and eye in ecstacy
Glances in eye, as through the mazy dance
Light feet and fairy forms move joyously
To merry notes, arrested not till now
My rapt attention. Youthful pulses leap,
And beauty's bloom hath there an added tint,
And eyes have deeper lustre, and the blood
Rushes impetuous through the tingling veins,
And lovely tones have greater witchery,
And tell-tale glances revelations make
As sweet as Hybla's treasure.

And 'tis well:

REMINISCENCES.

'My Mother! when I learned that thou wast dead,
How sad and fearful were the tears I shed!

I heard the bell tolled on thy funeral day,
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,
And turning from my nursery-window, drew
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu.'

COWPER.

How well I can remember one Saturday afternoon, when seated with two or three other children in my little play-room—while we dressed and talked to our dolls, and spread our tea-things, and affected all the importance that we had ever observed in our mamas on such occasions -how well I can remember saying: 'I will not marry until I am twenty. This was the age at which my mother married.' Surely this was the language of prophecy, though rather a far calculation for a miss of eight years. That I was to be married, seemed as certain as that I was one day to become a woman; and though the mystic tie was not investigated, even in thought, yet my mother married; and that I was to do the same, when arrived at womanhood, did not admit of a doubt. So naturally and beautifully does woman fall into her appropriate sphere! And happy are those daughters who find in their mother's example a pattern to imitate in all respects.

I was an only child, and my constant play-fellow and school-mate was my cousin Ann. She was a year older than myself, lively and good-natured, and loved any thing better than getting her lessons. She courageously protected my shrinking timidity, when in danger of oppression from older and more confident girls. Our obligations were mutual, for she invariably applied for my assistance in her neglected tasks. Do help me out in this composition!' or ‘Just finish this sum for me, my dear coz!' and putting her slate in my hand, away she flew to a laughing group, the gayest of them all. My solitary amusement was reading. Blessings on him who first invented sleep!' says Sancho Panza. I would say, Blessings on him who first invented the art of printing.' What inestimable treasures are books, those 'silent but eloquent companions!' What stores of rational amusement what worlds of delight and instruction what never-failing sources of enjoyment-varying

'From grave to gay, from lively to severe !'

Cultivate in the young a taste for correct literature, and you have already opened to them the door to knowledge and to virtue. I have culled from almost every source, and do not recollect the time when an interesting book would not detain me from play, or even from my meals. With a volume of the Arabian Nights' in my lap, and my cheek resting on my hand, Come to your dinner, my love,' was unheeded, though repeated for the twentieth time; and until something in a louder tone, as: Those books shall be put away!' roused my attention, I was deaf and blind to all external objects. My mother

was extremely judicious in the choice of the books she placed in my hands, yet I constantly borrowed from the girls at school. These were often trash, and served to excite an imagination perhaps naturally but too active, and encouraged a strong predisposition to romance. At one time, I was an Amanda; then a Helen Mar, or a Lady something or other; for I placed myself in the situation of whatever heroine I read of. So strong has been the impression at times, that my very brow has ached on my pillow, in the vain endeavor to banish these fancies from my heated brain. It was during one of these moods, that a girl at school remarked to my cousin: 'Your cousin is very proud; she acts as if she felt herself above us.' That it gave rise to many unconscious absurdities in my conduct, I have no doubt; just as a tragedian will carry the steps and deportment of a king from the scene of their enactment.

As I have said, I was an only daughter, and in no little danger of being spoiled by indulgence, when the death of my father roused me from a delightful dream of romance and of innocence. I was not yet nine, and my beloved mother, struck with the blow, was followed to the same tomb in fifteen months. Though sensible of the loss which was to throw a shade of sadness over my future years, yet, removed to the house of my grandfather, I did not then realize it in its full extent. Beside my grand-parents, there remained at home, in single blessedness, two aunts, the eldest of whom not only ruled her father's house, but in some measure those of her married brothers and sisters. It was soon settled that I was to be sent to a new school. This was my first trouble. Many of the young ladies I was sincerely attached to; and my cousin, who had been a sister to me, how could I be separated from her? Tears were vain, and it was decided that writing, arithmetic, and grammar, were all the studies necessary for me to attend to. I had commenced French, previous to my mother's death, but, It will be of no earthly use to her,' said my aunt. Geography was mentioned: 'If she studies the geography of her own house, and understands that, it will be of more importance,' persisted the uncompromising stickler for good housewifery. She was overruled in this; and though dancing was decidedly objected to, I subsequently took lessons in music.

W Academy was much larger than the school I had left; and the first day of my entrance, as I looked around on the different teachers, and saw under their care nearly a hundred young faces, not one of which I knew, I felt that I was indeed alone in this little world of strangers; and when the principal entered, his near resemblance to my late father completely overcame me. I burst into an involuntary flood of tears. What is the matter with her?' was repeated on every side. I could only sob out to a young lady, who

This opinion of my good aunt was forcibly called to mind lately, on hearing a lady, who had lived eight years in a house, declare, that she really did not know if there was a cellar belonging to it or not. This lady was not so ignorant as she pretended; but she feared it might detract from her refinement to be supposed to have an acquaintance with either the kitchen or the cellar. Her ideas of gentility were about as accurate as those of a young lady, who a short time since, to settle the disputed respectability of a family recently moved into the place, said she thought they must be genteel people, for in riding past their house, she saw mahogany chairs by the window!"

to

'I

tried to soothe me, that Mr. H looked so much like my father, who was dead!' Their wonder was instantly changed to pity, and a sympathetic tear stole from many a bright eye, for the orphan stranger. My progress was rapid; too much so, as I only left school come under the strict surveilance of my spinster aunts. intend she shall be taught every thing that is useful for a woman to know, in the lowliest situation; and rather than permit her to be idle, I will have work picked out and done over again!' was the reply to a query as to how my time was to be disposed of. Of course, in her estimation, reading was time thrown away; and I can well remember the bursting feelings with which I recalled the memory of my mother, when first seated under the eye of my duennas, I commenced stitching wrist-bands, and sewing up long seams.

I now seldom saw my cousin, yet we maintained a regular correspondence. How full of soul were those secret letters! To her I could open my whole heart; and to her were expressed my ardent aspirations, and thirst for knowledge; my wishes, my imaginings, my regrets. She was my only confident; and though we were as unlike as possible, she was the only one who understood my feelings, or to whom I could communicate them. Another object of devoted affection at this time was my aged grand-sire. Though a great girl, yet when I could steal into his sitting-room, and, seated on his knee, listen to the untiring stream of anecdote of his early days, I felt that I had nothing to wish for. You were not born in England?' said a companion to me, one day. No; but I have heard my grandfather tell so much about it, that I feel as if I had been there.' To this day, I have a sort of tendresse for old men; and when my grandfather departed, in a good old age, crowned with the respect due to an honest man, my grief was more lasting than the sorrow I had suffered for my parents. My days glided along unmarked by any novel or exciting scenes. Our visitors were staid, middle-aged people, who advanced none but correct views and sound principles; yet I pined for companions of my own age, and for the enjoyments suited to youth. As I had now become very expert with my needle, I was sent into the kitchen; for,' said my aunt, jocularly, though you can make a shirt very neatly, you must be able to turn out a pudding whole, before you will be fit to get married.' I blushed crimson deep at the insinuation, which however is not a bad one, and should be oftener repeated to young ladies, who, with a most superlative contempt for any useful knowledge, take upon themselves duties, of the details of which they are totally ignorant.

I once heard a gentleman, who lost his wife in the second year of his marriage, declare, that were he to become a Calebs, he would not seek for the light accomplishments so unduly valued by many, but he should look for a lady who could make good puddings and pies. If she understands the latter art,' he added, 'I can excuse her ignorance of German; and I am not sure but I could overlook some little faults of temper.' I thought the man a shocking epicure, and wished with all my heart to see him yoked with one of my notable aunts. I learned, however, that though married for so short a time, the inconveniences and mortifications he felt, from the utter ignorance of his young wife in any thing connected with domestic affairs,