O for days of careless gladness, days that evermore are gone, When the spirit-thrilling summons of the silver bugle-horn Roused the green-clad host of merry men at break of dewy morn. —Cease thy prating, foolish Fancy, Fancy wayward, unconfined, List the mighty music rushing on the pinions of the wind, ’Tis the onward tread of nations, ’tis the endless march of mind. _Bowdoin College._ * * * * * SONG. Each gentle word thy lip imparts, Each glance of thy dear eye, Is hidden in my heart of hearts As in a treasury. And, though but once in life we’ve met And ne’er may meet again, The memory of this hour, shall yet Within my heart remain, As the bright tinge of crimson dye, When the red sun descends, Long lingers in the western sky And with the twilight blends. Still let me cherish thoughts of thee Till life’s sad hours are o’er; Think of me, sometimes, tenderly— I may not ask for more. * * * * * THE FIRST AGE. BY H. DIDIMUS. BOOK FIRST. SECTION I. The broad sun, red, and with softened beams, rose lazily upon the young earth. The wide sea, unruffled, heaved to and fro, mirroring in its depths the new-made canopy of azure and of gold spread by God’s hand, from limit to limit, over water and land, and all the stream of ocean. The herbage stood rank, thick, heavy, tall and motionless; and covered with vast shade mountain and valley and plain; for not yet had the revolving seasons, and storms, with falling rain abraded the soil, and bared rocks, and worn acclivities; nor the breath of heaven hastened in its course, circling the earth; nor the poles left their place to rise and fall, vibrating; but one unending spring ruled throughout the year. Rivers rolled—unvexed and noiseless—toward the bosom of their great mother; and the mountain stream scarce murmured as it fell, whitening, from sward to sward, to sleep in some still lake, happy with water-fowl. Herds of cattle—of horses and of deer, the elephant and the bison—wandered, uncared for, through fat pastures, beautiful with flowers; and the lion roamed at will, and crouched in every dingle, and in every glen, and took his prey. The air was vocal with the voice of birds, of birds innumerable, which saluted with morning hymn the growing day; and the hum of insects—which all night had drummed in the drowsy ear of silence—was hushed, and folding their wings, they slept. It is the primeval age. SECTION II.