At times, while young Content forsook her seat,

And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed,
Where, tipp'd with gold, the mountain summits glowed.
Alas! the idle tale of man is found

Depicted in the dial's moral round;

With hope Reflection blends her social rays

To gild the total tablet of his days;

Yet still the sport of some malignant power,
He knows but from its shade the present hour.

The Common Lot.

NCE, in the flight of ages past,

There lived a man;-and who was he?

Mortal, howe'er thy lot be cast,

That man resembled thee.

Unknown the region of his birth;

The land in which he died unknown:
His name has perished from the earth;
This truth survives alone:-

That joy and grief, and hope and fear,
Alternate, triumphed in his breast;
His bliss and woe,- -a smile, a tear,--
Oblivion hides the rest.

The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirit's rise and fall,-
We know that these were felt by him
For these are felt by all.

He suffered-but his pangs are o er;
Enjoyed, but his delights are fled;
Had friends,

his friends are now no more;

And foes, his foes are dead.

He loved, but whom he loved, the grave
Hath lost in its unconscious womb;
Oh, she was fair! but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.

He saw whatever thou hast seen,
Encountered all that troubles thee;

He was whatever thou hast been;

He is what thou shalt be.

The rolling seasons, day and night,

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, Erewhile his portion, life and light,

To him exist in vain.

The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye

That once their shades and glory threw,

Have left in yonder silent sky

No vestige where they flew.

The annals of the human race,

Their ruin since the world began,

Of him afford no other trace

Than this,-THERE LIVED A MAN.

The Last Footfall.

HERE is often sadness in the tone,
And a moisture in the eye,

And a trembling sorrow in the voice
When we bid a last good-bye.
But sadder far than this I ween,

O, sadder far than all,

Is the heart-throb with which we strain

To catch the last footfall.

The last press of a loving hand

Will cause a thrill of pain,

When we think, "Oh, should it prove that we

Shall never meet again."

And as lingeringly the hands unclasp,

The hot, quick drops will fall; But bitterer are the tears we shed,

When we hear the last footfall.

We never felt how dear to us

Was the sound we loved full well,

We never knew how musical,

'Till its last echo fell:

And till we heard it pass away

Far, far beyond recall,

We never thought what grief 'twould be

To hear the last footfall.

And years and days that long are passed,
And the scenes that seemed forgot,
Rush through the mind like meteor-light
As we linger on the spot;

And little things that were as nought,
But now will be our all,

Come to us like an echo low

Of the last, the last footfall!

Your Mission

F you cannot on the ocean
Sail among the swiftest fleet,
Rocking on the highest billows,

Laughing at the storms you meet,—
You can stand among the sailors
Anchored yet within the bay,

You can lend a hand to help them
As they launch their boats away.

If you are too weak to journey

Up the mountains steep and high, You can stand within the valley

While the multitude go by;

You can chant a happy measure
As they slowly pass along,-
Though they may forget the singer,
They may not forget the song.

If you cannot in the conflict

Prove yourself a soldier true, If where smoke and fire are thickest There's no work for you to do;

When the battle field is silent,

You can go with careful tread, You can bear away the wounded, You can cover up the dead.

Do not, then, stand idly waiting
For some greater work to do;
Fortune is a fickle goddess,

She will never come to you.
Go and toil in any vineyard,—
Do not fear to do and dare,
If you want a field of labor,
You can find it anywhere.