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TO THE LAST STAR OF MORNING.

and though not wretched, yet they were not happy; and it was only in their descendants they looked for felicity. Agnes has found it truly, but for Walter ——”

“Grandam, it is your own tale you tell and our grandsire’s, I am certain, by the tears which roll down your face,” replied Lilias. “Ah, I will wait Heaven’s own good time for a husband, and try these charms no more. Kiss me, noble grandam: your Lilias will never forget the Tale of Halloween.” The bright maiden threw herself into the arms of her venerable ancestress, and at that moment it was scarcely possible to decide which was the nobler object, the damsel in the glory of her brilliant youth, or the Countess in the calmness of her majestic age.

TO THE LAST STAR OF MORNING.

BY THE REV. DR. BOOKER.

Meek lamp of heaven! thy splendors fade away,As proudly rises the bright king of day;Who, clothed in grandeur, all around him, far,Pours floods of radiance from his fiery car.Pale and more pale thy softer lustre grows,As ruddier, with his beams, yon orient glows:So shall my little lamp of life decline,As that which never wanes begins to shine.Then, when has pass’d away this mortal night,Full, on my raptured view, shall visions brightBurst! while thy portals, heaven! shall wide displayThe boundless glories of eternal day.
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