DEATH AND THE GAY CHARIOTEER.

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But, ah! that grim king, who sat at the feast,

Hath followed the track of thy chariot wheel;He heeds not the cry of anguish for rest,

Nor the sorrows that time will never heal,Nor the captive's sigh for sweet release,Nor the exile's prayer for the dark grave's peace;

No,—he follows thee, thou gay and vain,And all thy schemes of pride will mar,He takes the wheel from thy splendid car

And hurls thee prostrate on the plain!Nature heeds not thy parting groanNo more than thou didst the beggar's moan;The skylark amid the full sun-blaze is singing,While down the lone valley thy death-shriek isringing!

Ah! what are worldly pomp and glory ?An empty shadow, a noisy story !While earthly pleasure is a fleeting dream,And honour but the meteor's gleam !

J. F. P.

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