CHAPTER LXXIV.

I do but hide
Under these words, like embers, every spark
Of that which has consumed me. Quick and dark
The grave is yawning;--as its roof shall cover
My limbs with dust and worms, under and over,
So let oblivion hide this grief.
Julian and Maddalo.

With thee, the very future fled,
I stand amid the past alone;
A tomb which still shall guard the dead
Tho' every earthlier trace be flown,
A tomb o'er which the weeds that love
Decay--their wild luxuriance wreathe!
The cold and callous stone above--
And only thou and death beneath.
From Unpublished Poems by_____.


THE HISTORY OF SIR REGINALD GLANVILLE.

"You remember my character at school--the difficulty with which you drew
me from the visionary and abstracted loneliness which, even at that time,
was more consonant to my taste, than all the sports and society resorted
to by other boys--and the deep, and, to you, inexplicable delight with
which I returned to my reveries and solitude again. That character has