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DEATH S DOINGS.

anxieties, fears, troubles, sorrows—all vanished asdrinking ye proceeded in your mystic dance! Ipicture ye in my fancy, now, ye Hours, as spark-ing, joyous, and exquisite insects, flitting past witheach a burden of man's miseries on his shoulderssufficient to break the back of a camel, and bornefrom the lightened hearts of your true worship-pers. But, alas ! alas ! for all things mortal—wemust come to the last at last.

Yet let the grim tyrant approach at any time,sith it must be so, and at what time can he ap-proach when we should less regard his frown.Like the unconscious lamb, which " licks thehand just raised to shed its blood," we play withhis bony fingers as he presents the latest draught;and, let his dart be dipped in the rosy flood, wedie feeling that wine gives to Death itself a pangof joy. Herodotus must have been wrong whenhe told us that the Maneros of the Egyptians wasa mournful and wailing song; and Plutarch's isthe best authority, for he says it was a joyouschant. So believed the merry party assembledin our faithful picture: their round of song, of

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