"Alas!" the voice of Poesy replies,
"Mystic's that light between the hemispheres!"

"Yes, dread's the mystic light in yonder heaven--
Dull is the gleam behind the distant hill;
Like feeble flashes in the welkin driven,
When the far thunder seems as it were still!

"But who can tell if that uncertain glare
Be Phoebus' self, adorned with glowing vest;
Or, if illusions, pregnant in the air,
Have drawn our glances to the radiant west?

"Haply the sunset has deceived the sight--
Perchance 'tis evening, while we look for morning;
Bewildered in the mazes of twilight,
That lucid sunset may _appear_ a dawning!"

G.W.M. REYNOLDS



THE THREE GLORIOUS DAYS.

_("Freres, vous avez vos journees.")_

[I., July, 1830.]


Youth of France, sons of the bold,